


(I Want You To See) The Darkest Side Of Me

by ann2who



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Steve Rogers, Family Secrets, First Time, Getting Together, Jealous Steve Rogers, Love at First Sight, M/M, Misunderstandings, Not Captain America: The First Avenger Compliant, Pining, Post-World War II, Protective Steve Rogers, Rebecca AU, Steve Rogers Feels, Sugar Daddy Tony Stark, Tony Stark Angst, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Unrequited Love, Virgin Steve Rogers, but not really, daphne du maurier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-02-04 08:04:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12766659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ann2who/pseuds/ann2who
Summary: In Monte Carlo, Steve meets the wealthy widower Anthony Stark. It’s love at first sight—at least for Steve—and he can’t believe his luck when Tony asks him to live at Stark Mansion, his large estate in Malibu. Never in his life had Steve thought something like this was possible… never had he been this happy. However, soon Steve realizes that Tony is still deeply troubled by the death of his first wife and haunted by the many ghosts she left behind. The longer Steve lives in her shadow, the more he understands that… He can never be what Tony’s wife had once been for him. And Tony might never truly love him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, it's been a while. I have to admit I had a bit of a fandom-downtime lately - and this took forever to write and even longer to edit. It's my late fill for the Stony Trumps Hate auction. The lovely cianblood had a bunch of awesome prompts for me and this is what I chose to write: A Stony-version of „Rebecca“. I really hope I did it justice and that you'll like it!
> 
> Many thanks to my beta-reader morphia-writes for bearing my endless whining and contributing your thoughts on this so often!

Steve smoothed out his coat, then bent down to rub some shine in his new shoes. When he stood up straight again, he surveyed his surroundings.

In his dreams, Monte Carlo had looked very different. He remembered lying awake in his tiny bed at night and listening to Bucky describe all the places rich people went to for their vacation while breathtaking pictures danced across his closed eye-lids. The city would be warm and friendly, with rows of extravagant mansions on lush hills of emerald grass.

His dreams had clearly forsaken him now.

Slowly, Steve began to walk along the misty coastline. The air felt heavy and stagnant, carrying the scent of salt from the sea.

It was still hard to grasp that his ma was dead and that Bucky had joined the army without him. He was alone now,  _ truly _ alone—his childhood was gone forever, and he was still learning how to make a life for himself.

The streets of Brooklyn, his home since birth, had faded into memory in a matter of just a few short weeks. And now he was in Monte Carlo—a place he’d always envisioned as beautiful, and that greeted him with dull browns and grays and heavy black clouds overhead. Sure, the landscape  _ was _ beautiful, but the whole hotel resort and its people, especially, seemed so… superficial.

And cold.

Steve shivered in response to the electric chill in the air and pulled his scarf tightly around his shoulders. The suit he wore beneath was made out of simple linen. Mister Hammer had offered to buy him a better one, but Steve wasn’t ready to let go, yet.

With a heavy heart, he thought of his last day at home.

Before packing his few belongings for the long trip, Bucky had grasped his arm and said, “You don’t have to go with that Hammer guy, Stevie. He’s an ass.”

He was. There was no way to deny that. And yet, in response, Steve had only shrugged and gestured to the empty apartment around him. “I’ve got nowhere else to be. Nowhere where I’m needed.”

“We both know that’s not true,” Bucky had said with a sad smile. “But I’ll let it rest because I’m selfish and I want you to have a chance at happiness.” His eyes flickered to Steve’s saggy pants, or more importantly, to the few dozen holes in it. “Come on. A friend who works in a tailor shop owes me one. I’ll order you something new you can wear on our journey—something right. These people are not like you and me and they will eat you alive if you show up like this.”

Back then, Bucky’s words had surprised Steve. Why should anyone care about  _ his _ clothes? He was no one. Just a dirt-poor guy from Brooklyn. Hammer had only hired him as his assistant because he didn’t want to turn up to his meetings alone and because Steve had a fairly good eye for design. There were many people who could’ve done the job, though, and Steve was sure he’d only gotten it because he hadn’t asked for much, only a minimum wage and something to eat each day.

Now that he’d seen the hotel and its guests, however, Steve began to understand what Bucky had meant by ‘those people eating him alive’. He understood now what it meant to be involved with this part of society.

Not that the new clothes really helped his case. He still felt like an intruder.

Pulling the cloak even tighter around his body, he walked up an embankment, coming to a sudden stop after only a few steps.

Steve’s mouth opened in complete shock. There was a man standing at the edge of the cliff. One of his feet was moving forward and—Oh God, he was about to jump, wasn’t he?

There was no doubt. No one looked that long into the abyss without wanting to be a part of it.

He was going to jump to his death.

Steve shouted “Stop!” before he really knew what he was doing. He ran a few more steps up the slope and only came to a stop when the man turned around, wide-eyed.

Dressed to the nine in a charcoal striped suit, the man stared at Steve like he was seeing a ghost. He blinked, and the surprise was replaced with an odd mixture of both relief and disappointment—and those eyes, they were made of the softest, warmest brown Steve had ever seen.

“Don’t,” Steve breathed, only now realizing how much he was trembling. “Don’t do it. Please.”

The man’s eyes flickered to the side, shame flooding his expression for the barest of seconds, before they fixated on him again.

“Who are you?” the man asked, and then added more sharply, “And what do you think you are  _ staring _ at?”

“I… I didn’t mean to stare,” Steve said, baffled. “I only thought—”

“Thought  _ what? _ What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I was only walking,” Steve explained weakly.

The man’s jaw flexed as he brushed a hand over his meticulously trimmed goatee. “Well, then move along, boy. This is none of your business.”

Steve swallowed. His first instinct was to tell the man  _ exactly _ what he thought about being ordered around like this, followed by the fierce need to make sure that the man wasn’t going to continue doing what he’d been doing as soon as Steve was out of sight. In the end, though, the despair in the man’s eyes made him take a step back, and then another.

“I… hope to see you on the conference, sir,” Steve said, trying to keep his voice calm even as he was almost shaking out of his own body.

“The conference?” the man echoed.

“The Engineering Conference,” Steve clarified. He’d thought the man must be one of the attendees—a scientist as well, maybe. Like Mister Hammer. “There are so many amazing, groundbreaking discoveries to discuss, don’t you think?” He shrugged, trying for a smile. “This is where the future is happening.”

Something in the man’s eyes shifted at that, a flicker of curiosity, and Steve almost couldn’t believe his own eyes when he saw the corner of his mouth lift in what had to be the ghost of a smile.

“I suppose there is,” he said, the smile vanishing again almost as soon as it had formed. Instead, his eyes settled on the sky above him. “Go on, now. It’s going to rain soon.”

Steve nodded,  _ hating _ to leave, but he knew it wouldn’t do anyone any good if he stayed longer. Why would a man like this listen to a boy like Steve? Whoever he was—he obviously belonged to a different world altogether.

The only thing that mattered was that he hadn’t jumped.

 

* * *

 

They had been at Monte Carlo for over three days now, and Steve—against all expectations—mostly enjoyed himself. The food was delicious and the landscape beautiful once the dark clouds and mist had vanished. There was a golf court and various swimming pools next to the hotel, and though Steve had not the first idea on how to play golf  _ or _ swim, he enjoyed watching the other guests. Sometimes he’d sit on the sidelines, trying to capture them on paper as they had fun, imagining what it would be like to be a part of this world.

“More coffee, Mister Rogers?” a voice asked, pulling Steve out of his thoughts.

He looked up to see one of the waiters standing next to him. It was still so strange, to be addressed so formally, when it had usually been him who’d worked in some run-down pub, trying to make it through another night of serving drinks to dozens of drunken idiots.

And getting beat up in some back alley later for speaking up on one thing or another.

“Yes, uh, thank you,” Steve said a bit lamely. He knew he should try to blend in more, not constantly hiding from the rich and the famous, but he really hated all of this superficial small talk these people were doing each day. He hated the fake smiles and the fake laughter, the fake interest and the slightly pitiful looks everyone was casting him.

Even dressed up like this, he knew he just didn’t look the part.

Fortunately, he wasn’t as skinny and sickly as he used to be anymore, but his stature still didn’t inspire much respect. And apart from that, he was an outsider, plain as day. A poor guy who tried to fit in, and everyone saw it.

And yet, he knew he couldn’t hide like this forever. He was here to share his opinion with Hammer’s business affiliates, make sure his inventions looked good. Just because Hammer often purposefully thrust Steve into situations where his judgment was lacking, it was certainly much better than the jobs he’d had before.

“Steven,” Hammer called, and Steve ducked his head guiltily as he looked up, realizing he hadn’t followed the conversation as he should have.

“I’m sorry, Mister Hammer…”

“What were you thinking about?”

_ Tired brown eyes, _ Steve thought to himself. “I was just… there was a lot on my mind.”

“Yes?” Hammer said, chuckling in that mocking way of his. “Who would’ve thought.”

Steve refrained from rolling his eyes as he turned around again. And it was then, when he noticed the man walking in.

It was  _ him _ . The man from the cliff. He walked in, and his beautiful brown eyes found Steve’s almost immediately.

“Ohh,” Hammer exclaimed next to him, his voice all hushed excitement. “Anthony Stark! Unbelievable. I didn’t think he’d actually come here. His wife only recently passed, you know. A tragedy. Everyone assumed he’d be skipping the conference.”

Steve’s eyes widened. His wife had died? So that was why… why the man had wanted to end his life?

“He owns a great estate in Malibu,” Hammer continued. “The one with the peculiar design. Everyone keeps fussing about it.”

Steve blinked as he remembered the many articles in the newspaper. The mansion indeed had a very special design—one Steve had loved at first sight. There had been many photographs of the building and its unusual structure. “He owns Stark Mansion?”

“Oh, yes. He’s one of the wealthiest men in the country. And his company is a world leading weapons manufacturer.” There was a certain shrill in his voice now, and then, to Steve’s utter horror, Hammer raised his voice and waved the man over. “Mister Stark!” he yelled loudly. “A minute of your time?”

Until just now, the man had not looked away from Steve, but now, a forced smile appeared on his face, and the man— _ Mister Stark _ —began walking in their direction.

“Mister Stark, please sit down, have coffee with me,” Hammer said, standing up and shaking Mister Stark’s hand. “I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Justin Hammer. We met a few years ago, after one of your galas, remember? Mrs. Stark, may she rest in peace, invited me and we talked about the possibility of RDX bursts for a new generation of missiles. I don’t suppose you remember.”

Steve stared at Mister Stark, gauging his expression. His mouth was drawn, tight and unpleasant. That haunted look in his eyes was now even more prominent than the day when he had wanted to jump to his death.

“Oh, I remember,” Mister Stark replied, cold but disturbingly polite.

“The galas your wife hosted were unbelievable,” Hammer continued. “In my opinion, you should host another soon. It would be a shame to keep the manor to yourself.”

“No,” Mister Stark declined. “That sort of thing stopped amusing me. Though I appreciate your interest in my home. It’s very touching, thank you.”

Steve bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Mister Stark’s voice was drenched in sarcasm, biting with the full extent of what his employer deserved.

“Well, I can understand that,” Hammer said. “Hosting a gala without your wife… that’s gotta be unthinkable. She was a one-of-a-kind woman. I’m really sorry about her passing. Everyone was shocked to hear it.”

Mister Stark withdrew at that—a ghostly, detached look on his face. It wasn’t hard to see where his thoughts were going. Steve might not know the man, but he did recognize someone who was deep in mourning. The grief was something Steve knew well, and if Mrs. Stark’s death was not even a few months in the past, the loss Mister Stark had to endure had to be intolerable. “Thank you,” he replied after a moment.

“Still,” Hammer continued, “if I had a home like that, I wouldn’t come to Monte Carlo. I never understood why they had to host the conference here of all places.”

Mister Stark’s expression didn’t waver, but he  _ did _ glance at Steve, then. “And you?” he asked. “What do you think of Monte Carlo?”

Steve swallowed. His throat ran dry. “I… uh, I think it’s a bit artificial,” he managed to get out.

Mister Stark started to smile, but next to him, Hammer huffed, immediately waving him off. “God, don’t mind him, Mister Stark. He’s young. Most boys his age would give everything for a chance to see Monte.”

Mister Stark nodded. “Yes,  _ most _ would.”

Hammer cleared his throat. “Well, now that we’re both here, I hope we can discuss a few projects. You  _ have _ to come and have a drink with me this evening.”

“I do?” Mister Stark said lightly, though there was now a pinch to his forehead.

“Yes. The truth is, I’m actually hoping to present something at your next Expo in New York City. I’m sure Stark Industries would—”

“I’m afraid I won’t have the time,” Stark replied.

“Or we could meet in your rooms? I have a whole presentation ready. Steven here would make himself useful, bring us something for dinner—”

“That’s a charming suggestion, Hammer, but I’m afraid I have a lot of appointments already.”

Hammer looked close to crying. “But…”

“Look, if you invent something that works, I’ll make sure to get you a slot on the Expo. Mail all the details to my office, I’ll have someone look at it.”

And that  _ someone _ very clearly wouldn’t be him, Steve translated, and tried not to look too pleased by the way Mister Stark handled this conversation. Hammer sure had it coming.

“Well then,” Mister Stark said, standing up. “It was nice meeting you again, Steven.”

Steve badly wanted to say something in return, but Mister Stark had already turned around and left.

They sat there in stunned silence, and Steve found himself smiling, even as Hammer sputtered, “What  _ was _ that? Did he try to be funny?”

He glanced at Steve in question, clearly embarrassed, as he fished out a package of cigarettes. “Come, boy. Don’t sit there gawking. We’ll go upstairs, prepare everything for our meetings tomorrow. There’s plenty of other snobs like Stark who will love to work with us. People say he lost his mind anyway, simply can’t get over his wife’s death. We don’t need him.”

Steve nodded absentmindedly, though he barely listened to Hammer’s rant, as he wiped his mouth on his napkin and stood, leaving the dining room through the same door that Mister Stark had exited.

 

* * *

 

It was the next day, and Steve was faced with an unexpected opportunity.

Overnight, Mister Hammer had caught the flu and he gave Steve the day off. There were enough maids that Mister Hammer had fluttering around him, so Steve was dismissed from his duties for the day.

He didn’t really know where he wanted to go at first, but as so often, his feet carried him down the path towards the coastline. When he reached the spot where he’d first seen Mister Stark, he stopped, and couldn’t keep his thoughts from drifting off to their meeting once more.

There was something about a man suffering so much that touched Steve’s heart. He had seen grief before—had felt it too. He’d only become nineteen some weeks ago, but Steve felt he had already grieved sufficiently. He had two parents in the ground, after all. But what Mister Stark was feeling seemed to be beyond grief and Steve couldn’t imagine what it was like; loving someone so much only to have them die when you were still young.

He didn’t know Mister Stark’s age, of course, only that he couldn’t be too old, maybe in his early thirties.

Steve shook his head against the soft wind and looked around for a place to sit. He hadn’t yet had the time to try and put the beauty of Monte Carlo’s coast to paper, and he supposed his clumsy hands couldn’t do the peaceful serenity justice, anyway. Still. He wanted to have something to remember this place.

He sat down at a small bench, looking at the scenery as he smoothed out the sketchbook in front of him. He set the pencil down, drawing a line, and then another. After a few moments, he looked at the first few strokes, rolling his eyes at himself.

That was definitely  _ not _ Monte Carlo’s coastline, but a certain man’s profile. The beginning of a nose and the contours of warm eyes he’d often dreamed of in those last days.

Steve released a long breath. That was typical for him, daydreaming about someone he could never even talk to. Bucky was right. He really should let go of these fantasies of great love and just find a nice girl… one who wouldn’t mind his many flaws. His health was doing a lot better lately, belying the doctor’s prognoses that he wouldn’t live to see his twenties. He hadn’t had an asthma attack in months, and his frail and thin body was finally starting to look a bit healthier.

Still… there was not much of a reason to give him a second look. He wasn’t as elegant as these people, not as cultivated. He said things he shouldn’t and was often too stubborn and forward for his own good, but if he found someone who would care to look past all that, he might have a chance to prove them he was worth  _ something _ .

Another brush of his pencil, and those lovely eyes stared back at him, even though he surely hadn’t done them justice. The lines of Mister Stark’s face slowly came to life and Steve was so immersed in his drawing that he didn’t hear the steps approaching, nor notice when someone leaned over his shoulder.

“Tell me,” a smooth, baritone voice said, “is my nose really that big?”

Steve startled hard and couldn’t stop the pencil from smudging the drawing just a little. He looked over his shoulder, his eyes wide, as he met the same brown eyes he had tried to put on paper.

Immediately, Steve put his hand over the sketchbook, trying to hide it. Oh God—what would Mister Stark think of him, sitting here, daydreaming about him? Daydreaming about a  _ man? _ Steve was about to voice the apology ready on his tongue, and he could’ve slapped himself, when he said instead, “You’re not a very easy subject to sketch.”

To Steve’s relief, that only seemed to amuse Mister Stark. He walked around the bench and sat down next to Steve. “No?” he asked and reached for Steve’s hand, pulling it away from the piece of paper. He let go of him as soon as the drawing was bared to his eyes, and Steve's skin tingled where he’d touched him.

“Your expression,” Steve started explaining. “There’s… there’s so many different emotions. It’s hard to put a finger on it.”

Mister Stark raised a brow. “Is that so?” He smiled, as if that amused him. “Well, I’d concentrate on the view instead if I were you. It’s much more worthwhile than my face.”

_ No, it’s not, _ Steve disagreed silently.

“I don’t want to bother you,” Mister Stark said as he leaned back against the bench. “I just… I have no more meetings today, thank God, so I thought I’d go for a walk. I saw you sitting here and I had to use the opportunity to talk to you. Whenever I saw you, you were sitting with Mister Hammer.”

“He’s sick,” Steve explained, though his thoughts were circling around the fact that Mister Stark had kept an eye open for him.

“He is?”

“Yes. The flu. The doctor won’t let him out of his room.”

“Oh, that’s… horrible,” Mister Stark replied, though his tone betrayed a strain of humor that wasn’t too hard to miss. Steve smiled down at his hands, saying nothing.

“Well, now that I’ve found you,” Mister Stark continued. “I want to apologize. I was a bit rude the last time we saw each other. And also the time before that.”

It took Steve a moment before he realized Mister Stark was referring to the first time they’d met, at the coast.

“There is nothing to apologize for,” Steve said softly.

“Mmm,” Mister Stark hummed. “I think there is.” His eyes dropped to the sketchbook in Steve’s hand, and a smile formed on his lips. “So, you’re an artist, Steven?”

Steve swallowed. He couldn’t believe Mister Stark had remembered his name.

“It’s Steve,” he said, ducking his head. “My friends call me Steve.”

That seemed to please him. “Steve then. But you’re changing the subject. Will you let me see your works?”

“It’s really nothing special,” Steve said. He knew he wasn’t too bad, but a man like Mister Stark likely owned a lot of very fine paintings. And Steve’s drawings were merely scribbles. “It’s just a hobby.”

“Artists rarely like their own work. If they do, they’re either arrogant or unambitious. Besides, you’re very young.” He smiled. “You have a lot of time to improve.”

Then, without warning, he snatched the book from Steve and opened it to the page he had been working on. The half-finished portrait was really nothing good, and for a moment, an icy fear gripped Steve at what Mister Stark would read into it. Would he know that Steve couldn’t stop thinking about him? If he wanted, he could tell on Steve, on his dangerous infatuation, tell the police of his attraction to men, and—

“I don’t think anyone has ever wanted to draw me before. I mean… without getting paid for it.” He shrugged, a strange gesture for a man like Mister Stark. “Feels as if this comes from the heart.”

“It does,” Steve said quietly, his gaze dropping to his feet.

He held his breath as Mister Stark slowly sifted through the papers, carefully studying his sketchbook as though it was something important.

“You drew all of this?” he asked then, snapping Steve back to the present. He looked down at the book, at a portrait of his mother.

“Yes.”

“This is very good.”

Steve stayed quiet, not knowing what to say.

“Trust me, I know good work when I see it,” Mister Stark went on, turning the page to a sketch of Bucky laughing at something. “I’m an engineer, and I know a few things about good quality. If they weren’t any good, I would tell you. I’m not the type to stroke your ego just to spare your feelings and your drawings? They’re  _ really _ good. Don’t give this up, you hear me? If you truly love doing something, don’t let anything stop you.”

His voice had become very passionate towards the end, and Steve thought there might be a hidden meaning in there.

“Thank you,” was his weak response. He’d never been good at accepting compliments.

Mister Stark nodded. “I should leave you be. You have… I guess you have little time for yourself. Enjoy it.”

“ _ No! _ ” Steve blurted, too forcefully. When Mister Stark looked down at him curiously, he felt his cheeks heat up. “I mean… I—I enjoy your company. You don’t bother me at all and I wouldn’t mind… spending time with you. If you want to.”

Mister Stark smiled, pleased. “How about you join me on my walk?” he suggested.

“Yes, yes, gladly,” Steve said, standing up eagerly.

Soon after, they were walking along the small path, leading to a forest that aligned with the coast.

“Can I ask,” Mister Stark said after a while, “how do you and Hammer know each other? At first I thought you might be related, but for the way he treated you yesterday—”

“He is my employer.”

“Employer.” Mister Stark repeated the word, and raised one brow to tag along with it. “Interesting. What do you do for Mister Hammer?”

“I am his… assistant. And designer.”

“Ah. Does he pay you enough for that?”

“One thousand a year.” The amount was great to one who had no wealth, but Steve knew money was something that Mister Stark never had to worry about. He suddenly felt stupid, naming the sum as though it was something to be proud of.

There was an angry pinch at Mister Stark’s mouth, though he remained as he ever was: quiet and kind, nodding once to confirm he had heard him. “And how long have you worked for him?”

“I’m not sure. It hasn’t been too long,” Steve replied. “A few months. I…” He cleared his throat. “I prefer not to count my time when in bad company. It makes the time go quicker.”

Mister Stark paused, his mouth opening. For a second Steve thought he might’ve gone too far, but then, he laughed, and it gave Steve an odd sense of accomplishment. “I gotta remember that,” he said, once he’d quieted down again. A pause, then, “Do you have no family?

Steve shook his head and buried his hands in his coat pockets. “No. My parents died,” he explained. “My dad was in the war, my mother died two years ago. Tuberculosis.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Steve nodded. “Thank you.”

“So you don’t have anyone. Aside from Hammer.”

“Yes.”

Mister Stark exhaled a deep breath. “Well, you’ve probably gathered by now that I don’t think too highly of him.”

Steve grinned. “You might have hinted at that.”

Mister Stark chuckled, his smile turning a little mischievous even. It was a good look on him, Steve decided.

“But I can’t be too picky,” he explained, “my options in jobs are limited. I went to art school for a while, that’s not much to go with. Then, during the war, I wanted to join the army, but, well…” He waved a hand at his small frame.

“They were stupid if they didn’t want to have you,” Mister Stark said. “I have a feeling you would’ve made a great soldier. You seem like the brave kind of person. And that’s what we need these days, don’t we? Bravery.”

Steve felt his body go very still with the weight of those words. Never before had someone said something like this to him. Like he was worth more than met the eye. He met Mister Stark’s gaze slowly. “Thank you,” he said once more, swallowing hard.

“Just stating the truth,” Mister Stark said lightly. Steve startled when he felt him linking their arms. “Take a drive with me?” he asked.

Steve’s eyes went a little wide, but Mister Stark only smiled. “I brought one of my favorite cars with me. It’s ostentatious and  _ very _ fast and I hear Monte Carlo’s the best place to take cars for a drive. Interested?”

“Yes,” Steve said breathlessly before he could stop himself. There was a boyish charm about Mister Stark now, and he really wanted to see more of it. “If it’s not an inconvenience.”

“If I make it any clearer how much you’re not an inconvenience, I think someone might want to arrest me,” Mister Stark replied, making all the breath leave Steve’s body.

“Mister Stark…” he whispered, unsure.

“Too scandalous?” Mister Stark answered.

A thick silence stretched between them, only accompanied by the wind blowing past them. Steve knew that his answer would likely shape the way Mister Stark would be looking at him from here on out and he felt his heart beating almost painfully against his ribcage.

“No,” he decided on, his voice trembling slightly. “No, it’s not.”

Mister Stark’s smile softened. “Good,” he said, as he tugged Steve along.

It seemed to have been the right answer and Steve couldn’t help swooning a little as Mister Stark led him back to the hotel, already knowing that he didn’t want this day to end. He stole a glance in his direction and felt an unfamiliar sensation swell in his chest.

The man was truly a dashing bit of mystery. The sort of man Steve desperately wanted to get to know better.

And now, Steve realized, he could.


	2. Chapter 2

The following days were a complete blur—and surely the best of Steve’s entire life.

Every morning, Mister Stark would be waiting for him at breakfast and more often than not, they’d spend the rest of the day together. He told Steve about his meetings at the conference, told him about his inventions, he joked with Steve, warmed him with his laughter and taught him a hundred things about life without even realizing it.

Mister Stark was a busy man; Steve learned that quickly. He spent a lot of time on the phone or writing letters, and people were constantly trying to engage him in conversation. They wanted his opinion on some new design, or a business idea, or simply tried to get him to invest his money in a project.

Sometimes, one would even dare to say something about his dead wife, _Indries_ , and every time that happened, it brought new sorrow to Mister Stark’s eyes. It seemed there was never a time when his ghosts left him behind. Even Steve, who tried very hard to steer around the topic, would inevitably say something without thinking and force Mister Stark to relive the pain once again.

It wasn’t hard to see how much he must’ve loved his wife. The grief was written all across his features whenever someone would say her name or even hint at her death.

Rationally, Steve knew that, while Mister Stark enjoyed his company very much, he most certainly wished another pair of eyes would look back at him. And yet, the days they spent together were simply wonderful. He loved listening to Mister Stark when he talked about his marvelous inventions and he was dazed with how fast his mind seemed to work. Listening to his ideas about the future, about what the world might one day look like… it was humbling.

It must’ve been around the sixth morning following Mister Hammer’s illness that Steve realized that… that… he might be falling in love.

He hadn’t recognized it at first, that fluttering feeling inside him, but there it was. It was a warmth he’d never known before, a yearning he was only slowly learning to live with. And it scared him—not just the love in itself, although that was unbelievably overwhelming, too, but also because he had a feeling that his love would never be returned.

How could it? His own world and Mister Stark’s… they couldn’t be farther apart. And once Mister Hammer decided to leave Monte Carlo, Steve would become a vague memory at best. He was a man of no money. No talents. Nothing whatsoever. A boy whose name would perhaps cross Mister Stark’s mind once every ten years. Why should he remember the time they’d spent together?

Steve would never forget him, though. That much he knew. He would go on, sure, but he would carry these days with him forever.

“You look troubled,” Mister Stark said, eyeing Steve suspiciously and breaking him out of his reverie.

Steve shook his head, trying to clear it as he wiped a bit of dirt and greenery from his trousers. It was late afternoon and they sat in a clearing inside a small wood next to the hotel. They had discovered the place earlier in the week and now often came here to enjoy the warmth of the day—without anyone bothering them. The grass beneath them was soft and still slightly heated from the sun. Steve had his notebook and a few pencils with him, though the pages were still blank.

“It’s nothing,” Steve answered after a beat. “I’m sorry.”

Mister Stark snorted and he looked at Steve with his friendly, however burdened eyes. “Yes, you really should apologize, sitting there, minding your own business. An apology is definitely in order.”

Steve blinked, then grinned at him. “Very funny.”

Mister Stark grinned as well. “It made you smile, so it was at least a _little_ funny.”

His heart beat a bit faster, and Steve willed himself to focus. He released a wistful sigh and turned his eyes once more to the blank sheet staring up at him.

_Love_. It was unthinkable. He had heard Bucky talk about love often, whenever he’d taken a fancy to some girl, but he hadn’t described the swelling feeling clamoring his heart. The way he felt he couldn’t breathe whenever he so much as looked at Mister Stark.

Steve looked to the side and realized that their arms were touching. Immediately, he felt warmth burning through his body.

At last, he brought the pencil to the paper and scribbled a few soft lines. Then, he filled the area in between with slow, measured strokes.

“You’ve drawn that before,” Mister Stark said.

When Steve looked up, he shrugged. “It’s a building I used to see from my room at home. It was run-down and shabby, but… I loved it. It was one of a kind. I must’ve drawn it about a hundred times.”

Mister Stark smiled. “Doesn’t that get boring after a while?”

Steve kept drawing and after a beat of quiet, he said: “My ma had a theory. About art. She used to say that if I found the one perfect thing, I should stick to it. It’s… I never truly understood what she meant by that, not until she was gone. Whenever I draw that building, I remember how I felt when I sat in my room, I remember ma and my friend and… I’m home.”

“That’s a nice thought,” Mister Stark said quietly. He fiddled with a few blades of grass, twirling them, but never ripping them off the ground. “Tell me something?” he asked.

Steve glanced up again. “Of course.”

“How do you like Monte Carlo these days?”

Steve frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You said you thought it was artificial. Do you… I mean, do you enjoy yourself more than you did before?”

Steve smiled when he understood where Mister Stark was going with this. What he was _really_ asking. “I’m enjoying myself much more than before, yes.”

It was a dangerous truth.

“Especially here,” Steve went on, looking around the forest. “Here it’s… like a small world of its own, and I know it’s only an illusion, but it’s so easy to forget. As if there’s no other world beyond the forest. Just us.”

A wry grin appeared on Mister Stark’s mouth. “Just us?”

Steve felt his heart beating a little faster, not knowing what to say.

“Wouldn’t that be something,” Mister Stark went on, looking at the sky. “A place just for us. A place where only our world exists and nothing else. Now that’s something I would love to see.”

Steve felt a sudden rush of bravado. Could it really be that Mister Stark was flirting with him? No. No, it wasn’t possible. Mister Stark wouldn’t be flirting with a _boy_ —least of all him. “Mister Stark…” he started.

“It’s Tony, _Steve_. I’d like to think we don’t need the formalities anymore, don’t you? Stop this ‘Mister Stark’ bullshit.”

Steve swallowed, then nodded, as a small smile rose to his lips. “Alright. _Tony._ ”

Tony smiled as well, and Steve was very aware at how close they were. He’d been aware every second they’d stayed here, lying in the grass together, but now, Tony’s eyes were repeatedly flickering to Steve’s lips and suddenly, Steve’s whole body burned with the need of… _something_.

“Look at you,” Tony teased with some amusement. “You’re redder than the roses over there.”

_I hoped you were about to kiss me,_ Steve thought, but he was too afraid of what would happen if voiced those words. By now, he was sure that Tony would never tell on him, and he wouldn’t be cruel about it, either. But a small voice inside Steve’s head still wasn’t sure if Tony liked him in a way one liked a pet dog, or if he truly wanted him.

“I’m just… happy,” he said instead, and that, at least, was the truth. “I haven’t been in a while and I… Sometimes, I wish there could be an invention that bottled up a memory, like scent. And it’d never fade, and it’d never get stale. And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like living the moment all over again.”

Tony smiled that special crooked smile of his, a look of curious wonder on his face. “And what particular moment would you want to keep?”

“All of them,” Steve said quietly. “All these last few days.”

Tony remained quiet for a few long moments, and when he raised his voice again, it felt as if he was far, far away. “Sometimes those little bottles contain demons,” he said, “they have a way of sneaking up on you… just as you're trying desperately to forget.”

The words had a lump form in Steve’s throat, and he couldn’t find a way to answer properly. He knew— _knew_ that losing his wife was the one thing Tony could never recover from. And that there were certain things they would never talk about. Certain things about Tony that Steve would never know.

Another day was slowly melting away. Another day before Tony left him forever.

 

* * *

 

It was over.

Steve couldn’t remember ever having felt more hopeless in his entire life. Mister Hammer had just informed him that their time in Monte Carlo was over—and thus was his time with Tony.

The happy dream he’d been living was about to vanish into thin air and God, he didn’t know how he could bid Tony goodbye.

“But… why?” he heard himself asking. His voice was loud and brash, something he’d always tried to swallow down whenever talking with his boss, but today, he just couldn’t.

_“Why?”_ Hammer repeated, his brows arching to the sky. “Are you really asking me to explain myself? Good God, boy, it doesn’t matter _why._ We’re leaving, and that’s all you need to know.”

_It’s not,_ Steve thought bitterly, his insides churning painfully. “But the conference is—”

Hammer sighed heavily. “The conference was useless. And you have an hour to pack your things.”

Steve balked, and again his mouth interfered with his better senses. “An _hour_? Only an hour? But I need to—”

Mister Hammer stopped him with another raised brow. “Do you have a problem with that, Steven?” His voice carried the hint of a threat.

Steve breathed in sharply, his heart in his throat. What he wanted was to tell Hammer to go without him—that he didn’t care to work for him in the first place, but it was no use. He needed the money.

“No, of course not, sir. There is no problem.”

No problem aside from his breaking heart.

“Good,” Mister Hammer replied, nodding. “Be ready within an hour, you hear me? Or I’ll find myself a new assistant. If you think you’re irreplaceable, you’re very wrong, boy.”

“Of course,” Steve repeated softly. He knew he had no choice, none whatsoever. He needed this job—it was all he had.

But first he needed to see Tony. He needed to memorize every contour of his handsome face, so he would have something to take with him and remember.

So Steve made quick work of packing, then left his room while Mister Hammer was off, making last preparations for their travel. He entered the long stretch of corridor, walking towards the part of the hotel where he knew the luxury suites were located.

And then, he stood awkwardly outside Tony’s room, hesitating.

He would never forgive himself if he did not say goodbye, but he was also horribly nervous as to how Tony would react to his sudden departure. Would he be secretly glad to be rid of him?

His heart was about to leap through his chest as he raised his fist to the door and knocked.

There was movement on the other side of the door. Footsteps. And yet, Steve was almost surprised when the door finally opened.

“Steve,” Tony said with raised brows. “Is something wrong?”

Steve would’ve loved to answer him, but he was too busy gawking, because Tony was only wearing a bathrobe he hadn’t even bothered to tie together and some very tiny, red sleeping shorts. And Steve… he was faced with a muscular, olive-toned chest and legs that left him so distracted that he could not remember why he’d come here in the first place.

“Steve?” Tony reminded him, and when Steve forced himself to actually look at his _face_ , and not his almost-naked body, the teasing amusement was back full force.

And yet, he still didn’t bother to actually use the bathrobe he was wearing, to hide his nudity.

“I came to say goodbye”, Steve blurted. “The air in Monte Carlo no longer agrees with Mister Hammer. We are going to leave this morning. I have to… say goodbye.”

There was nothing for a very long moment, and Tony’s expression remained unreadable.

Steve cleared his throat. “I said I have to—”

“I heard you. Come inside.” Tony stepped aside and held the door open. “Join me for breakfast.”

Steve slowly raised his brows. Had he not heard him say that he was _leaving?_

“Mister Stark, I—”

“Are you really calling me Mister Stark again?” Tony asked, his voice irritated.

Steve paused, rubbing a hand over his face. “No, I’m just…”

“Have breakfast with me,” Tony repeated and suddenly grabbed Steve’s hand. And like every time when he touched his skin, warmth flooded Steve’s veins.

Steve shook his head, but did little to stop Tony from leading him over the threshold. “Mister Hammer said I need to be ready in an hour,” he said, but Tony cut his protest short with a quick, disinterested wave.

“‘Mister Hammer’ wouldn’t leave Monte Carlo without you, would he?”

Steve bit his lower lip, and Tony sighed. “Eat with me, Steve,” he said softly. “I’m sure we can fix this.”

Fix this? There wasn’t anything to fix. Nevertheless, and against his better judgment, Steve found himself following Tony into his personal space.

“I have toast,” Tony announced, leading him to the veranda. “And coffee.”

“I like coffee.” It was the only thing he could say. His mind was still spinning.

Tony pulled out the chair for Steve and waited patiently until he sat down. Then, he took the seat across from him and leaned back. “Cream or sugar?”

“Cream, please, but Tony, I—I really have to go. I only came to thank you for being so kind to me. I really can’t keep Mister Hammer waiting. He—”

Tony raised a hand to stop Steve. Then, he reached for his knife and put some butter on a slice of toast, taking a huge bite of it. Halfway into chewing, he asked conversationally, “Tell me, do you enjoy working for Hammer?”

Steve scoffed. “You know the answer to that. But you _also_ know I can’t choose for whom I—”

“He pays you to be his assistant.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Steve answered, though he slowly realized that Tony was merely reciting things that he already knew.

“But it’s not about genuine friendship, is it?”

“No. You know that, too. Why are you asking me that?”

Tony smiled dryly and sipped at his coffee again. “I’m just beginning to realize that there are a few things Hammer and I have in common.”

“You and Hammer couldn’t be more different if you tried,” Steve pointed out.

“Thanks, that’s good to know. But there’s this one thing…” He trailed off.

“What thing?”

“Hammer is lonely.” Tony offered Steve a small, almost apologetic smile. “And I’m very jealous that he found you. That he can have you around each day, for as long as he wants.” He paused for a moment, cocking his head at Steve. “I can only stand the jealousy for so long. So I offer you a choice.”

“A… choice.”

“Exactly. Either you leave with Hammer, stay at his side until he tires of you. Or…” Tony raised the mug to his lips again, his mouth tugging into an even wider, however mystifying grin. “Or you come home with me.”

Steve froze completely. Only after a long moment of silence, he found his voice again. “Come _home_ with you? I don’t understand.”

“To Stark Mansion.”

He swallowed. “But… Mister Hammer just hired me because he wants someone to appreciate his inventions. I offer a few ideas on his designs, sure, but it’s… it’s really not that important. Not for people like _you_ , who are… you are a genius. You don’t need my services. You don’t need to resort to—”

The sudden impact of Tony’s laughter shook Steve to the bone. It made the insides of his chest quiver. And once again, he felt very young and very foolish.

“Come on, Steve,” Tony said, shaking his head in amusement. “I’m not asking you to be my assistant.”

“I don’t understand,” Steve said.

Tony’s eyes twinkled, and he leaned forward, suddenly taking Steve’s hand in his. “I’m asking you to come home with me. Hell, I would ask you to _marry_ me, were the world a more just place.”

Steve’s eyes went wide and for a very long moment, he felt asthmatic again.

“Tony,” he forced out. “You can’t say things like that. We are… we are both men.”

“I’m aware of that, thank you,” Tony said, grinning deviously. “To be completely honest with you, I’ve never liked to stick to the rules and Stark Mansion follows mine, anyway. If I want to kiss you, for example… it’s solely my decision.” He paused, smiling as he sipped his coffee. “Well, and yours, of course.”

_Kiss him._ The words echoed in Steve’s mind, making him dizzy despite the fact that he was sitting.

“I don’t belong to your world. I have nothing to my name,” Steve said. It was important that Tony understood that. How far apart they truly were. Whatever he did, whatever he said, Tony exuded the presence of great importance. Whereas Steve… he was the exact opposite. He was the kind of guy that people like Tony or Hammer usually looked down on.

Tony sighed deeply. “Do you really think I care about that? Trust me, you are perfect just the way you are. More perfect than you could ever understand. Come home with me. Come with me to Stark Mansion. Please.”

The last word sent a shiver down Steve’s spine. And slowly, it sunk in that Tony was serious about this. And Steve started to wonder if it was possible that he loved him, too. Ridiculous as it was.

When he didn’t answer, Tony exhaled a long breath. “I don’t know how to make this clearer for you. And I’m starting to think I was wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Well, I thought you liked me.”

“I do,” Steve hurried to say.

Tony smiled. “Then I don’t see the problem. We can’t get married, obviously. But by all means, I’m offering you all the pleasantries of becoming my husband. I could take you to Florence and Paris and Barcelona. Everywhere you want.”

The idea was, at last, beginning to sink in. This was real. This was a real possibility. Tony Stark was actually asking Steve to come with him.

The idea was simply too overwhelming to grasp.

Steve squared his small shoulders. “So you want to… be with me?”

“I do,” Tony offered while taking another healthy bite out of his toast.

“You want me to be your…” he swallowed thickly, “partner?”

Tony made a sound of mild amusement. “Yes, Steve. Though I admit I thought this would be a bit easier. Actually, I thought you were in love with me.”

Steve’s heart thundered. “I do,” he whispered. “I do love you.”

He waited for Tony to return the sentiments. After all, he’d been the one to mention love. But he didn’t. Instead, he smiled a half-smile and nodded again. “And you will come with me.”

It wasn’t really a question. He already knew the answer. “Yes.”

“Good,” he said, almost business-like. “And don’t worry about Mister Hammer. After breakfast, I will go speak with him. Or we can do it together.”

Together. He and Tony were going to be _together_.

They were going to live together in the world-famous Stark Mansion.

And any second, Steve was certain he was going to wake up, realizing that he was only dreaming a very weird, and very impossible dream.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve took a step forward and faced the open doorway. Inside, on a long sofa, sat Mister Hammer, and he looked ready to strangle anything that moved.

He most surely looked ready to strangle Steve on sight.

A long breath left Steve’s lungs. While Tony handled their departure, Steve had decided to talk to Mister Hammer himself. For better or worse.

“Sir,” Steve said after clearing his throat. “I came to explain myself.”

The man only waved dismissively. “You’re making a _terrible_ mistake,” he said without so much as a hello. “Stark is a complete maniac. He’s reckless and he’s still mourning his wife. Didn’t you listen to me at all?”

“I’m not sure how mourning someone makes Tony a—” _lunatic_ , Steve wanted to say, but Hammer just talked over him.

“Why do you think he spent so much time here?” he asked Steve. “Away from home? Why do you think he twitches every time Stark Mansion is mentioned? His wife _drowned_ , did you know that? She drowned in the ocean at Stark Mansion. Her body was found weeks later, washed along the shore miles from where her boat reportedly sunk. And your poor, devastated _Tony_ had to identify her. Friends of mine told me her body was completely broken and rotten. They tell me he spilled his guts out right on the floor next to her.”

Bile rose in Steve’s throat at the thought. “Sir, I—”

“Do you really think he cares about you?” Mister Hammer studied him for a minute. “Do you really think a man as rich and powerful as Anthony Stark cares about anyone but himself? Good God, boy. I thought you weren’t that stupid. The guy’s just lonely, and he’s known to flirt up women and men alike.”

Steve swallowed. So Mister Hammer knew of the nature of their relationship.

“You’re admittedly a pretty face,” Hammer continued. “An innocent boy he’ll want to defile. Men like Stark enjoy dirtying up their conquests, but he’ll get tired of you soon, and where will that leave you? People will talk about you, they will know you like to spread your bony legs for other men. Trust me, boy, once Stark stops caring about you, you’ll be done for.”

A heavy pause, and Steve could do nothing but stare at the man in front of him, trying not to show the fear those words inspired within him.

Instead, he held onto the second emotion rising to the surface.

Anger.

“What I do with my life is none of your business,” he told Hammer and stood up a little straighter.

Hammer scoffed. “Do you really think you could replace his wife at Stark Mansion? Mrs. Stark was an enigma. Everybody loved her. _Stark_ loved her. I bet he still does.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m not trying to replace anybody.”

“Still,” Hammer said. “You are making a terrible mistake. A mistake that you will bitterly regret. He will never love you.”

Steve only stood there and stared.

It didn’t matter. Hammer might be right. Tony might still love his wife—and he might not love Steve in return. Maybe he never would. But Steve loved him enough for both of them.

He _loved_ him.

And that was what this was about. Steve, plain and awkward, was in love with Tony Stark and that would be enough.

It had to be.

 

* * *

 

Steve never knew that life could be like this.

So… effortless.

In the last few weeks, just as Tony’d promised, they’d travelled all across Southern Europe, from Italy to France to Spain to Portugal. In just a few short weeks, Steve had seen more of the world than in all the years before. He’d seen the Eiffel Tower, the Colosseum, the Sagrada Familia. He’d tasted food he’d never even heard of before and nipped at wines that cost far more than all the money he’d ever earned.

And yet, all of the luxuries paled in comparison to the time he could freely spend with Tony. There wasn’t one day Steve had regretted his decision. All of this… It all felt a lot like dreaming.

He was so used to struggling, trying to stay afloat. But here, now, was a life completely without complications or obligations. If before he had been fighting the current, now he was floating upon it, letting a warm drift carry him where it would.

Overnight, he’d become… _someone._  At Tony’s side, people looked at him differently. They asked for his opinion, they wanted to please him. There were no duties anymore. There was nothing but safety and a thousand new experiences each day. And Tony—

And _Tony_.

What was there to say about Tony except that he was amazing?

At first, Steve had been a bit intimidated by what was awaiting him now. Tony obviously knew about his attraction to him, and he would likely also know that Steve didn’t have a lot of experiences with… _anything_ that came with a relationship.

Heck, he hadn’t even kissed anyone, yet.

But so far, Tony had been nothing short of perfect. He’d shown Steve the world—or at least more of it than Steve had ever expected to see. He’d told him stories about each landmark they’d come across, or simply sat next to Steve while he tried to capture it on paper.

Tony was… the perfect gentleman.

And if Steve was really honest with himself, he sometimes wished he… wouldn’t be.

Tony had never tried to kiss him, never even wanted to hold his hand. And Steve tried to think of it very little. Of Tony’s words when he’d made his proposal. That they’d be lovers, that he wanted Steve in every way he would want a husband.

Only very late at night, when Steve was alone and could not sleep, did the thought gnaw at him. How Tony’s skin would feel beneath his fingertips. How it would feel like to kiss him, having that goatee scrape at his skin. If he’d groan against Steve’s lips and how his breaths would quicken when Steve would put his mouth on him …

God, it was driving him mad. As if his heart was too big, as if he couldn’t breathe. For so long he had worried that he was not capable of loving someone. But now, with Tony at his side, it felt that his past life—it was all dim and unimportant.

With an inward sigh, Steve watched Tony from across the room. He was bent over his desk, a pen scratching rapidly across a sheet of paper. There was an open book lying next to him, something about Plasma Physics and Fusion Energy; and Steve walked a bit closer, taking a cautious look.

He smiled when he saw what Tony was drawing. His ‘secret invention’. He’d started with the first sketches somewhere in France, and by now, he worked on it almost every day. So far Steve had only watched from afar, never daring to ask him about it. But he’d caught brief glances.

The sketches were nothing like Steve’s art, not as rough and emotional, but the accurate, careful lines of Tony’s blueprints had a beauty of their own.

“What is that?” he finally asked, too intrigued to keep quiet much longer.

Tony startled a little—he always zoned out when his mind was racing—, but once he’d noticed Steve approaching, he smiled at him. “Work,” he said as he leaned back, waving a hand at the circular schematic.

“Doesn’t look like a weapon,” Steve said. “Is it a… light bulb?”

Tony smiled. “Not quite. But close enough.”

“What is it, then?”

Tony hummed, glancing at him with one of his patient smiles. “Don’t you think it’d bore you?”

Steve refrained from rolling his eyes as he leaned his hip against the desk. “Try me.”

That broadened Tony’s smile. “It’s a prototype for a… well, an alternative power source. My father used to work on it before he died. It’s not working, though, and it’s not something I can use for my company, anyway.”

Steve frowned. “Then why are you working on it?”

He knew Stark Industries was solely in the business of producing weapons. During the war, they’d made a lot of money, and Steve had always admired the company for protecting those soldiers as best as they could, and yet… He also knew about the destructiveness and the shadiness of the business.

Tony huffed, as if he’d asked himself the same question a million times. Why work on something that was no use to him? Then, a sinful smirk appeared on his lips, and he turned his chair around, settling both hands on Steve’s hip. “I guess you could say I always loved a challenge.”

Steve flushed. “I don’t think you’d spend your time on it if you didn’t think it was worth it.”

Tony’s eyes flickered back to the paper. His smile got a little softer. “Maybe,” he admitted. “It’s… always been a thought at the back of my mind. To make something that’ll make people’s lives better and not, well… end them.”

Steve smiled, and after a bit of contemplation, he placed a hand on Tony’s head, his fingers brushing through the dark hair. “Sounds like a great thought.”

Tony’s eyes settled back on Steve and he wrapped both arms around his waist. “Tell me something, Steve. Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Very much,” Steve said truthfully.

“Not bored of this old man, yet?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re not old.”

He settled his hands on Tony’s back, letting his fingertips wander downwards ever so slightly. He could feel the firmness of Tony’s muscles beneath that fancy shirt; he could feel his heat and smell the scent of his skin.

“And you like this arrangement we’re having?” Tony asked.

Steve didn’t know how to answer. So far their arrangement basically consisted of Tony paying for everything as they travelled across the countries. They slept in the same suites, but never in the same bed. Tony never asked anything of him, there were only lingering looks and a constant stream of flirting whenever they were on their own.

“You know I do,” he said. His fingers gently brushed the skin along his neck, massaging the skin and framing Tony’s jaw.

Tony hummed, his gaze analyzing. This was by far the most handsy they’d been with each other, and Steve felt his heartbeat quicken.

On the next beat, Tony’s grip around Steve’s hip increased and he pulled until Steve had no other choice but to sit on his lap.

_Oh God._ Steve’s mouth opened, a low gasp escaping him.

“This doesn’t have to be part of that arrangement,” Tony told him quietly. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted it, so I waited until you made the first move.”

Well, that explained a lot, Steve thought. He was so horribly nervous, and yet… there was a deep yearning inside his chest ever since he’d seen Tony at those cliffs.

“I want it,” he said softly, as he let his thumbs brush along Tony’s cheeks, close to those lips he had yet to taste.

It was, it seemed, the right thing to say, as a bright smile flashed along Tony’s mouth. He pulled again, until Steve was fully settled against his chest. His legs spread to either side of Tony’s hips, the weight of his body centering between his legs. He gasped at the sudden pressure he felt there, and at the intense pleasure it wrought.

Oh God, Tony surely could feel his body responding to his presence. But his face was all patience and affection as he looked at Steve.

“It’s been so long since I’d reached any form of happiness,” Tony whispered, reverently. “But I think you could make me happy.”

Steve’s throat felt so tight the words didn’t want to come. After his wife’s death, he wanted _Steve_ to make him happy, and Steve wanted to make it happen so badly.

With a thousand heartbeats at once, he leaned in and let his mouth finally cover Tony’s. The first brush of lips almost had Steve shaking out of his skin, but then, they both took a deep breath and _really_ kissed each other. Steve let his fingertips brush beneath Tony’s shirt, across his heart, trying to pull out the hurt.

And it felt—it felt as if it was working.

“I want to.” He murmured it into his mouth, pleading. “ _Please_.”

“Yes,” Tony whispered and kissed him fully then, even using his tongue. His hands pulled at Steve’s shirt, dragging it up and over his head. They had to break apart briefly, and it was part embarrassment and part need that had Steve press himself immediately against him once he was bare.

But Tony was having none of it. He pushed gently against Steve’s shoulders, holding him at a bit of a distance, eyeing his chest.

“I’m not—” _…very fit,_ Steve wanted to say, but Tony was already talking over him.

“—beautiful,” he finished. “You’re perfectly beautiful.” He raised a brow when he felt Steve tremble. “This is new for you, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Steve replied slowly, his heart in his throat. “I… forgive me, I have never…”

A small smile graced Tony’s lips. “Your innocence is nothing you have to apologize for. Trust me.” He looked at him with a serious expression. “Do you really want this?”

Steve blinked. “What?”

“I want you to be sure.” He took Steve’s hands in his, caressing his knuckles with his lips. “This has all happened very fast. Your life has changed so fast. Don’t think that I don’t know that. When you come to my bed, I want your heart with me.”

Slowly, before he could doubt himself, Steve rocked his hips against Tony. A soft breath left his lips when he felt Tony’s hardness against his own.

“I’m sure,” he declared, then closed his eyes and inhaled Tony’s scent. After another moment, Tony’s hands moved down his chest, unbuttoning his trousers, and it was so much like a fantasy that, for a moment, Steve was certain it must be one.

Tony’s hands were dipping beneath the waistband of his pants to outline the swell of his bottom. A rough sound left Steve’s lips as he shifted his lower body so that, in another moment, he was moving in clumsy counterpoint to the sway of Tony’s hips. He was likely going too fast, too uncoordinated: an ungainly thrust instead of sinuous movements

Tony put one hand on Steve’s hip and slowed him down, showing him how to move so that it was like dancing, their bodies rubbing against each other in a perfect, soundless rhythm.

When finally Tony broke their kiss, Steve thought he might have a chance to regain control of his lust, but no. Tony once more fondled at his fly, deftly undoing his buttons, easing his trousers over his hipbones. In another lifetime, Steve would have pulled away. He would have been ashamed to want to be touched like this—by another man, of all things. Now, he needily arched into Tony’s fingers and groaned when they wrapped around him. Within moments of Tony touching him, Steve’s need reached a fever pitch too extreme to ignore.

He felt himself shake and tremble and watched in absolute horror as he spent himself all over Tony’s expensive clothing.

It was agonizing, the moment after. Without the pressing need to climax, he suddenly came back to reality. And reality was that he was sitting unbuttoned and opened, on top of Tony—Tony, who was now wiping the spendings from his hand with the tail of his shirt sleeves.

Oh _no_. What had he done?

Steve wanted to hide, but Tony acted as if nothing was amiss. After dropping a light kiss on Steve’s sweaty brow, he pushed both of them upright, holding Steve steady as he helped him to his feet.

“Tony…” he started.

Gently, Tony picked up both of his hands and lightly kissed each knuckle. “You’re perfect,” he said, still smiling. “Stop looking like you did something wrong. Come here.”

He pulled Steve against his chest, moving them a few steps forward and Steve could only let it happen as his pants dropped to the floor. He stepped out of them, now fully naked, and let Tony lead him to the master bed.

Sitting down, Steve watched with wide eyes as Tony slowly undressed himself. He could barely see him in the dimness of the room, but just the thought—just the thought of his nakedness was enough, and he felt his erection slowly returning.

Tony looked slightly amused as he kneeled on the bed, settling down on top of Steve’s thighs.

“Touch me,” he said, almost an order.

Steve’s hands were shaking, too clumsy to handle something as precious as Tony’s naked body. Yet he had asked him to, so Steve tried to do as he asked. He tried to be slow and careful as he slid his hands up his ribcage, but eventually, curiosity got the better of him, and he let his fingers travel down, to the firm curve of Tony’s buttocks, then to his rapidly hardening member.

Tony moaned, thrusting up slightly. His hands wrapped around Steve’s arms, pushing him down until he was pressed against the bed sheet, with Tony lying halfway across his body, his hard flesh resting heavy on Steve’s thigh. Tony blazed a hot, moist path down Steve’s arched neck to his chest.

His hands never stilled, stroking up and down the curve of Steve’s waist before smoothing over his taut belly to delve over his middle and further down. With a hard swallow, Steve raised his knees a little, giving him access. Tony, however, took his time tormenting him with soft almost-touches before he slid two fingers down and against his hole.

Almost expecting Tony to breach him like this, Steve braced himself for the pain—but it never came. Instead, Tony leaned up to kiss him hungrily, sucking and nipping at his panting mouth.

“God, the way you look,” Tony murmured as he glanced down at Steve.

He wondered what exactly it was that he looked like right now. His submissive posture, arms raised over his head and legs spread to accommodate Tony’s hips between his thin thighs. And Steve couldn’t help but briefly think back on Hammer’s words: _Men like Stark enjoy dirtying up their conquests._

He shook his head, banishing those thoughts from his mind.

Tony sat up a bit, leaning sideways and producing a small bottle from the nightstand. He showed it to Steve, and he recognized some sort of oil that Tony now poured over his fingers.

“The next part might hurt a bit,” Tony explained gently, touching his fingers to Steve’s skin. “You can still say no.”

“I… I want to,” Steve said, and it was the truth. No matter how nervous he was, he wanted to experience this with Tony. Now.

Once Tony had pushed his fingers in, however, Steve felt his muscles tightening.

“Breathe. Relax,” Tony ordered. He eased his fingers back and in again, smoothed his free hand out over the inside of Steve’s thighs, spreading him wider.

Steve nodded his head jerkily, eyes still a little dazed from his climax. He was so lost in the feel of Tony’s fingers pushing into him, that he could barely form a decent thought. It was only when his hips were instinctively moving downwards to meet Tony’s fingers—little jerky motions to get more pressure—, that he realized how _good_ it felt.

There was something inside him, a bundle of heat and little electric shocks, that had him moan and gasp and whimper as he clung to Tony’s frame.

“God help me, but you’re magnificent,” Tony said with a raspy voice, before leaning down and _biting_ his neck. For a moment, Steve thought he might come again, and he almost cried out in protest when Tony removed his fingers, leaving him empty.

Only when he felt Tony’s hardness against him, Steve stilled. His breath caught and held, and then, Tony penetrated him with a strong surge of his hips, sliding heedlessly into his tight sheath until Steve felt something give and Tony slid in to the hilt. Steve muffled a sharp cry against Tony’s shoulder and sank his nails into his back.

It didn’t exactly hurt. Tony had stretched him for long minutes, but the feeling was still a lot to handle.

Tony lifted his head and stared down into Steve’s glistening eyes, his fingers sifting tenderly through the damp hair at his temples. “Alright?”

“Yes,” Steve answered, his voice achingly hushed. A tiny smile quirked his lips as he studied the guilt that shadowed Tony’s brown eyes. “Just… please go slow.”

Tony nodded, then leaned down and kissed Steve, his arms curled around his shoulders. As they kissed, Tony started to move above him, gently rolling his hips back and forth. He slipped a hand between their heaving bellies and combed through Steve’s pubic hair, lightly tugging on his cock.

“Oh, God. Tony…”

“Good?”

Steve was thoroughly distracted by Tony’s ministrations that he couldn’t hold back the sounds he was making. Tony’s movements sped up minutely, and he held Steve’s wrists in his hands, drawing them firmly up next to Steve’s head. And as Tony thrust into him fully, repeatedly pushing against that point inside him that made Steve’s toes curl, his head snapped back and he arched so hard he lifted both of their bodies from the mattress. His eyes flew open wide as another orgasm washed over him and a choked moan tore from his throat.

“Damn it,” Tony groaned, grinding into Steve a few last times as his own release rippled through him. His body jerked in an all-over shudder. It seemed to go on and on, until Tony finally collapsed on top of Steve, the last of his seed wetly pushed into him.

They both struggled for breath, panting into each other’s mouths. Rolling to the side so he wasn’t crushing Steve, Tony pulled him along until his entire slight frame rested on top of him. With hands that still trembled, he smoothed Steve’s hair out of his face and pressed a tender, satiated kiss against his forehead.

“There are no words…” he murmured, one fingertip reverently stroking over Steve’s heartbeat. “None.”

Steve rumbled his agreement, smiling as he tried to smother a yawn behind one hand.

“Sleep,” Tony murmured and his hands continued to stroke leisurely down to Steve’s and back up to his neck in an endless, soothing loop.

For the first time in his life, Steve felt utterly content. And he would be alright to just lie here with Tony like this for as long as he would let him.

 

* * *

 

For a few weeks, Steve had to share a bed with Bucky. It was in that hazy period following the death of his mother—the death that had rendered him an orphan. In the rush of those cold, lonely days, he had shared a bed with Bucky at least a dozen times. Bucky had often shoved at him, kicked him, and hogged the blankets.

It was an isolated memory. It was something he hadn’t bothered remembering until now.

He was in bed, naked, with a man. He was in bed, naked, with Tony Stark.

Steve honestly didn’t know what he thought would happen when he lost his virginity. Truth be told, he hadn’t given it much consideration until it was over.

No one had ever told him about lovemaking, and Steve honestly didn’t know when he’d learned the mechanics. It was before he’d started working for Mister Hammer; perhaps in a book he shouldn’t have looked in, or during a conversation with a fella he’d known at Art School.

He felt different, somehow.

Changed.

The ache between his thighs was foreign, and Steve had yet to decide if he liked it. Tony's intrusion into his body had both ached and split him apart with bliss beyond imagination. He’d never thought it possible to be so connected to someone.

The past few weeks had been a surreal blur. And tomorrow they’d take the long flight to Malibu and he’d be in uncharted waters. Whatever shell of a life that he’d known before would be completely eradicated.

Tony’s back was to him. Steve was no longer encased in his warmth. He wanted to touch him but didn’t know if he should.

After they’d finished, when Tony had fallen asleep, he’d soon started to mumble in his sleep. Steve had listened to him, unable to rest yet, and his heart had clenched uncomfortably when Tony had suddenly started whimpering his dead wife’s name.

Sometimes he would gasp, say “No,” and nothing else. Sometimes he would stretch against the mattress, his whole body going tense. Sometimes he would reach for something—or _someone_. Sometimes he would just moan. But every hour of the night, Indries’ name lived on his lips.

Steve had lain next to him, staring at the ceiling.

He’d known, even as he’d agreed to go with Tony, that the shadow of Tony’s great first love would forever be a part of his life. Tony had truly loved his wife—everyone had said so. Even Mister Hammer. He’d loved her immensely, had even wanted to take his life because he hadn’t been able to handle the grief any longer.

Steve had no doubt in his mind that Tony liked him and enjoyed his company. He was attracted to Steve, too, as unfathomable as it was. But could he ever love him?

It was hard to tell. He’d never said the words and perhaps it was foolish to believe that Steve could ever replace the woman who had owned Tony’s heart.

But even so, he had him. Tony shared his bed now—that would have to be enough.

Suddenly, a hand was on him. It roamed up his back and down his arm, paused to play idly with his short hair, then slid down his side until his warm fingers settled provokingly on his hip.

Steve trembled a little.

“Steve?”

He glanced over his shoulder, casting Tony a small smile and letting him pull Steve back against his sturdy chest.

Tony hooked his chin over Steve’s shoulder and inhaled deeply. “Are you sore?”

Steve’s cheeks rouged. The tenderness between his thighs was foreign, yes, but it wasn’t bad. “A little,” he replied. “It’s alright.”

_I think I like it_ , he didn’t dare to say.

Tony hummed and ran a hand down Steve’s arm. “Are you still nervous?”

“Yes.”

“You’re trembling.”

“Because I’m nervous,” he agreed, chuckling at himself. “Was it…” He swallowed, feeling foolish and more than a little flustered. “Was it any good?”

He felt Tony grin against his bony shoulder. “Did I give you the impression it wasn’t?”

Steve remembered Tony’s breathy moans, and the way he’d pulled Steve tightly to his body, groaning his name as he’d spilled deep inside him.

Secretly, he thought he could still feel him in there.

“No,” Steve admitted softly, though in the back of his mind, he was sure that he was falling short in comparison to Tony’s past lovers. For some reason, he imagined that Indries was a wonderful partner in bed that never left her husband unsatisfied.

Tony’s lips brushed against Steve’s shoulder, bringing him back to the present. “You’re warm,” he murmured. “I’ve been without warmth for so long.”

Steve’s heart swelled at those words, feeling hope rise within him.

“Are you happy?” Tony asked.

“Yes,” he said, turning to glance at him over his shoulder again. “I only wish we could stay here.”

A slight shadow fell over Tony’s face as he nodded. “Me, too,” he said gently, rubbing Steve’s back.

“Can’t we?” Steve asked, turning around in Tony’s arms and kissing him. “Do we have to go back?”

He couldn’t fathom why, but each day, he was getting a bit more anxious as to what would await him in Stark Mansion.

A sigh from Tony. “I’m afraid we do. I’ve stayed away from home too long already. I can’t put all of the work on Obi’s shoulders. He’s practically leading Stark Industries as it is. It’s time that I step in again and do my part.” He smiled again, brushing a hand over Steve’s back. “To be honest, it’s partly your fault I’m feeling some kind of… motivation rise inside me again. I’ve been without that for a long while, but my fingers are itching to create something now. Thanks to you.”

“I’m glad,” Steve said truthfully.

Tony’s smile broadened and he kissed Steve, deep and long. He reached for the bed sheet that was tugged around Steve and pulled, leaving him naked to his eyes once more. He kissed his way down Steve’s chest, pausing at his nipples briefly to lick them, and then—to Steve’s absolute shock—he trailed further south.

A tight heat engulfed him only seconds later and Steve moaned his surprise loudly into the otherwise still room. He heard Tony chuckle and the vibrations around his erection almost made him lose it then and there.

For the last hours, Indries had always been there with them, inside this room, almost coming back to life every time her name had crossed Tony’s lips. But here—now—he could lose himself in the fantasy that he was the only one on Tony’s mind. The only one who mattered.

And he would treasure those moments as long as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments and... So sorry for the delay - life's been a bit busy lately. I hope you all had a great start into 2018, the year I will probably look back on as the year 'Marvel ultimately broke my heart'. Ugh.
> 
> Anyway: I want to thank the wonderful [inshadowsoflove](http://inshadowsoflove.tumblr.com/) for betaing this chapter. You did an amazing job! Thank you for your help :)

Steve remembered it well. He’d been six, merely a small, sickly boy, but he remembered standing in front of the Empire State Building for the first time and feeling thoroughly insignificant. Standing there, knowing that something so great existed somewhere in the world. Something so… meaningful.

It was the same strange feeling with Stark Mansion. He’d looked at it in newspapers before, sure, but he’d never imagined seeing it with his own eyes. And in his wildest fantasies, he’d never envisioned a time when he would be driving inside a limousine, holding another man’s hand, dwarfed in the shadow of such a monumental building.

“What are you thinking?” Tony asked as the car turned up the driveway.

“It’s… beautiful,” he said truthfully.

“Some might call it obnoxious.”

Slowly, Steve brushed a finger over Tony’s hand. “It’s because they have little imagination.”

Tony smiled and it made Steve’s heart beat a little faster. “It’s yours, you know?” he said. “Everything I own is yours.”

Steve let his eyes travel all over Stark Mansion as Tony’s words echoed in his mind. This… this belonged to him now? It couldn’t be possible—not for someone like Steve, who’d never owned more than could easily be stashed in a small backpack.

And Stark Mansion… it was without question the greatest building he had ever seen. Immediately, his hand itched with the need to sketch it. There were two great wings that led to what he assumed was the main hall. And the steps that led to the entrance seemed enormous. The Mansion was built right at the edge of a steep cliff and all around were acres of green grass—and below, the wide blue ocean.

“I know it can be a little overwhelming. But Jarvis will give you the tour once we arrive,” Tony said. “You’ll feel at home in no time.”

Steve nodded numbly, barely hearing the words. “Jarvis?”

“Edwin Jarvis. My butler. And my oldest friend.”

Steve nodded. “Oh.”

Had he known of Jarvis? Tony had told him so many things about Stark Mansion, but for the life of him, he could barely recall his own name at the moment.

The limousine neared the mansion’s main entry and that was when Steve saw them. There was a group of strangers on Stark Mansion’s steps. The staff, Steve supposed. People whose station had been his own just a few weeks ago.

“Uh, Tony,” Steve prompted. “What is this?”

Tony suddenly grew silent and clenched his jaw. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“That must’ve been Obi’s idea,” Tony said on a long, resigned sigh. “I told him not to make a fuss. I swear, the man makes it difficult to remember who works for whom.”

Steve’s limbs stiffened. “Do I really have to meet all of them? At once?”

Tony raised Steve’s hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across his knuckles. “They just want to get to know you. Make a good first impression, that’s all.”

Steve blinked. “A good impression?”

“Of course.” Tony chuckled as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “They know you belong to me now. That makes you one of the most important persons in the whole mansion.”

“They… know? That we’re together?” Steve asked, disbelieving. It seemed impossible.

Tony smiled as though Steve’s question was a great source of amusement. “These people work for me,” he explained. “They have worked for me for decades, and even longer when my parents were still alive. They know I don’t have a preference when it comes to my partners. Most don’t acknowledge it, some might not approve, a few might even think of it as a perversion, but they won’t tell on us, if that’s what you’re wondering. And they won’t show their opinion to you.”

Steve didn’t know if that should calm or trouble him more.

Tony’s hand was firm around his as they left the car. He led Steve further into Stark Mansion’s shadow and after only a few steps, he was surrounded by a sea of blank faces. By people who were likely thinking how audacious he was for being here. For even considering being with a powerful man like Tony Stark.

They first came to a stop in front of an elderly man with a pleasant smile, who greeted both Tony and Steve with a firm shake of his hand. He drew Tony into a long hug after, before his eyes settled on Steve.

“Mr. Rogers,” he said warmly. “I’m Edwin Jarvis, head of the household. It’s a real pleasure to meet you. For all of us.”

Steve swallowed. “Thank you.”

Jarvis’ smile turned into something a little cheeky and something that looked, for just a second, a whole lot similar to Tony’s smirks. “I’m glad you brought Master Anthony back home, I was beginning to think we’d never see him again.”

“Jarvis…” Tony warned, though it sounded too affectionate to have any real bite. And Steve had a feeling Jarvis was much more than a butler to Tony. He also knew in that moment that he and Jarvis would get along just fine.

“Wasn’t really my doing,” Steve answered.

“Ah,” Jarvis said and Steve startled a little when the butler pressed a warm hand on his left shoulder. “I think you’re underestimating yourself. All my pleas went unheard, but you must’ve found a way to stop his endless brooding. Thank you.”

Steve smiled to himself, not knowing what to say. And he was glad when Tony led him to the other staff members.

“Everybody well?” Tony asked his servants as he walked past them.

“Yes, thank you sir,” one said, and another: “Glad to see you home, sir.”

At the end of the line, however, Steve was suddenly confronted with a pair of cold, unblinking eyes that drew his attention. They belonged to another elderly man, one with a bald head and a stone façade of prestige and self-importance. He held a long cane in one hand, with a black shaft and silver ornaments decorating its handle. There was some kind of orb on its top and Steve noticed him rotating it back and forth as he regarded him. While he held the cane firmly at his side, it didn’t look like the man depended on it as a walking stick.

He was undeniably the most frightening person Steve had ever seen.

“Obi,” Tony said, his pleasant voice bringing Steve back to himself. “I didn't expect the whole staff to greet us. I think I told you that it wasn’t necessary.”

“My apologies,” the man replied, his cold eyes never wavering from his employer. “I thought it best that everyone become acquainted with Mister Rogers. Since it seems he’ll be staying for a while.”

The corners of Tony’s mouth drew into a smile. “That he will,” he said, turning to Steve. “Steve, this is Obadiah Stane. As I told you, he takes care of my business whenever I’m not around. I’m sure you two will make fast friends.”

Steve nodded jerkily. “Mister Stane,” he said, cursing his trembling voice as they shook hands. “My name’s Steve.”

“A pleasure,” Stane said, twirling his cane again. Then, to Tony, “There are a few contracts you’ll have to sign. I prepared an abridgment you can read in your office. I’ll handle the details.”

“Good,” Tony said, “You’ll bring him to his room while I’m at it.”

It wasn’t a question, but somehow it sounded like one.

Stane smiled, though it was tight at the corners of his mouth. “Very well.”

And just like that, Tony was gone. And Steve was left standing in the shadow of Stark Mansion. In the shadow of something so much greater than he could ever be.

“Whenever you’re ready, Mister Rogers,” Stane said. “We have everything set up for you.”

Steve swallowed. “That’s great. Thank you. I didn’t expect anything.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t,” Stane replied, his voice pointedly light, but it still had Steve shudder. And for the first time, the reality of his situation sank in: From now on, he would be living in someone else’s house, sleeping in someone else’s bed with someone else’s husband, and he was surrounded by strangers.  


* * *

 

With slow, quiet steps, Steve followed Stane and the steady clicking of his cane through the dark labyrinth that was Stark Mansion. If he’d thought its outward appearance was the impressive part, he stood corrected now.

Every hallway was filled with huge portraits of Tony’s ancestors. And the walls seemed to whisper with every step he took. Lifeless eyes trailed his every awkward movement as Stane talked about the mansion’s everyday business.

Steve, however, only had eyes for the paintings. A hundred different people who shared Tony’s name. Most of them had to be dead, but Steve couldn’t help but wonder how big Tony’s family was. How many Starks would look at him in utter horror once they found out he was now part of Tony’s life?

Was he, though? He looked at the portraits and could not, for the life of him, imagine himself up there, with his unremarkable face and his messy blond hair.

Had Indries been immortalized in a portrait? He imagined her beauty, the elegant poise, the delicate features. The woman who held Tony’s heart must’ve been magnificent, eyes flaring with life, and a smile to take your breath away.

“Mister Jarvis will show you the rest of the house later,” Stane told him as they rounded a last corner before they came to a stop in front of a large, sun-filled room. When they stepped inside, Steve’s eyes briefly lingered on an old wooden desk first, then he tried and failed to take in the sheer luxury of the interior. “These will be your rooms,” Stane explained. “Tony selected them specifically. This one is called the Morning Room. We brought one of our finest desks here. It’s where Mrs. Stark used to answer her mail and file out daily orders for the staff. I hope it will suit you with… whatever it is you’re doing.”

Steve’s heart thundered and he swallowed. “I’m sure it will,” he said, trying to sound confident.

Stane smiled at him quietly and it wasn’t hard to tell that the man didn’t like him, but Tony had said that he and Stane would be friends. It was what Tony wanted. And for his sake, Steve was willing to try.

“I hope you approve of the new decoration,” Stane went on. “These rooms were never used much before, except for occasional visitors. We were in a bit of a hurry to get everything done.”

Steve frowned. “Then this isn’t the room Tony shared with Mrs. Stark?”

There was nothing for a long minute. Stane grew still, his inhuman eyes blinking once, narrowing as he met Steve’s confused gaze. “No, certainly not. Mrs. Stark never used the east wing. She didn’t like it much here, since there’s no view of the sea. The only good view is from the west wing. That’s where Tony and Mrs. Stark’s private rooms are located.”

_Are._ Stane spoke as if Indries was still alive, and maybe, for him, she still was.

“These quarters are a bit small in comparison,” Stane went on, while he used his cane to point to the room in general, “but perhaps better suited for a man of your standing.”

Steve blinked, unsure for a second if he’d heard correctly. But he had. Instinctively, he wanted to protest, give Stane a piece of his mind, but then again… he did have a point. Steve had nothing to his name and these rooms, they were so beautiful he could hardly be ungrateful. So the only thing he could think to say was, “Right.”

There was a heavy pause as they both stood within the quiet room.

“I suppose you've been working for Tony longer than anyone else?” Steve asked, trying to change the subject to something lighter.

“Not as long as Jarvis,” Stane answered. “He was already here when Tony’s father was still a boy. I only joined Stark Industries a few years before Howard died. Indries was later hired as my assistant, and she and Tony fell in love at first sight. Only a few weeks after she joined the company, they got married. I have never seen Tony as happy as he was in those days.”

Steve sighed, looking around. “Well, I hope we'll be friends. This sort of life is new to me, but… I want to make Tony happy, too.”

“I am sure you do,” Stane said—and it sounded mocking.

“Is there…” Steve started before his voice could betray him. “Is there something I can do to help him? With his company?”

“Well,” Stane replied. “I don’t mean to offend, but I think our business goes a little over your head. Or do you have any experience with the industry? Any sort of qualifications?”

“No,” Steve admitted, then hesitated just a second. “Um, I was Justin Hammer’s assistant for a while, so I was familiar with his weapon’s designs and his daily affairs.”

Stane smiled like Steve was the world’s biggest joke. “Well, let us be honest with each other, shall we? I believe Tony only brought you here to take care of _one_ daily affair,” he said, his voice amiable even as his words knocked the wind out of Steve’s chest. “Again: I mean no offence. Mrs. Stark always inspired Tony in his newest creations. The two spent hours upon hours in his workshop. She was his muse, he often said.” He sighed pointedly. “He stopped inventing after she died. And… well, I don’t think a kid from Brooklyn will change that. Tony only brought you here to distract himself a little, so let us not get carried away, alright?”

Steve stared at the man and he couldn’t believe how cruel he behaved. “Mr. Stane,” he prompted, braving himself, but Stane went on before Steve could get a word in.

“Stark Industries is very much a family business,” he said.

Steve wet his lips. “Family business?”

Stane nodded. “Ten years ago, Howard and his wife died in a tragic accident. They passed the company to Tony, though his confidant, Virginia Hogan, serves as a silent partner.”

Steve hadn’t known that. Had never even heard of this ‘Virginia’. The information immediately brought forth a dozen other questions: Was she Tony’s closest friend? Did he have any siblings? Had Indries had any children? Was Tony a... father? The thought made Steve’s insides churn. Not because it would’ve been a big problem—he was mostly certain that Tony didn’t have any children, anyway—but it suddenly made him realize how little he knew of Tony’s life.

“But Tony’s running the company together with me,” Stane went on. “He has done so for many years. And I am warning you, boy, not to meddle with something that is none of your business. We should both stick to what Tony wants us to do for him, shouldn’t we? Tony asked me for exactly two things for your shared rooms.” He pointed towards the desk. “Some place with good lighting where you can draw and…” He smiled crookedly as he nodded towards the rather large bed that stood in the adjoining room.

Steve flushed, though he immediately hated himself for it. He didn’t want to give Stane the satisfaction of knowing how much his words got to him.

“In the evenings, Jarvis will always call you to discuss the next day’s activities,” Stane announced, halfway turning towards the exit door. “He will be by to show you the mansion shortly. If you need anything in the meantime just ring him on the telephone.”

Steve swallowed hard. “Alright.” He nodded, then nodded some more and it took him a good few minutes to realize he was alone. Staring at the vast space around him, hearing Stane’s words over and over again, Steve couldn’t fathom how he’d come to this point.

_We should both stick to what Tony wants us to do for him, shouldn’t we?_   


* * *

 

It was evening when Steve finally saw Tony again.

He’d spent the entire day looking at his own quarters, then Jarvis had led him to the library, the gardens, the dining rooms and the swimming area. Afterwards, he’d tried looking for ‘the workshop’, as Stane had called it—a place where he figured Tony’s inventing took place—but it was nowhere to be found.

And the Mansion… It really was like living in the lap of luxury and opulence. He’d known, of course, that Tony was very rich, but he never could’ve envisioned this grandeur.

Somehow, he’d expected Tony to show him around, to have his steady presence as he explained everything about their new home. But no matter where Steve had looked, Tony was nowhere to be found. Only now, hours later, he spotted him sitting in the dining room, and it somehow felt as though they’d been parted for years.

“Steve!” Tony called, and God, he looked tired. Was it really only a few hours since they’d last seen each other? There were shadows beneath Tony’s eyes, and a visible strain in his shoulders.

Immediately, Steve felt guilty for thinking that Tony had abandoned him. Instead, he started to worry.

“Are you alright?” he asked as Tony beckoned him closer.

“Of course,” Tony said easily, though Steve had a hard time believing him. “How do you like Stark Mansion so far?”

_Scary_ , Steve thought, and forced himself to smile at Tony. “It’s impressive,” he said.

Tony nodded in agreement, and Steve sat down next to him at the table, reaching for his hand and feeling relief course through him when Tony squeezed his fingers. He looked around at the fine porcelain—and the many candles. It was all so very overwhelming. Steve now lived in a world where his meals would be served on a candlelit table every single day.

“Would you like a glass of wine?”

Steve nodded. Drinking, like so many things, seemed to be a new part of his life, as well.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t spend the day with you,” Tony started, as if he’d read Steve’s thoughts. “I thought I could take a break but I’ve been away so long, it took hours to catch up on everything that happened with the company. Also, Pepper called and informed me that she and her husband will be visiting tomorrow. She’s my company’s director. She’s perfect, but once Pepper starts talking it’s practically impossible to make her stop unless she wants to.”

“You mean… Virginia?” Steve asked, remembering Stane’s words. “‘Pepper’? That’s a bit of an unusual nickname, isn’t it?”

Tony grinned and even though two of the staff members were walking in and out of the room to prepare the meal, he raised Steve’s hands to his lips and kissed the skin there. “Pepper’s an unusual woman. So it fits her well.”

Steve nodded slowly. “And her husband? Is he working for your company as well?”

“Yes. He’s head of security.”

“Ah…” Steve acknowledged, nodding.

Tony leaned a bit closer, looking at him. “So. Do you like your new rooms?”

For a moment, Stane’s words came back to him. _Perhaps better suited for a man of your station._ But he shook them off and smiled. “Of course. It’s… too much, really. I don’t deserve any of this.”

Tony’s eyes softened. “You do. And I want you to know that you can ask me anything. I meant it when I said I want you to feel at home here.”

Steve took a deep breath as he glanced at Tony. “There’s one thing. I… I was wondering about the workshop Mister Stane mentioned to me…”

The words, once they left Steve’s lips, made Tony freeze. And Steve’s heart sank as he watched Tony’s handsome face drain of all color. He suddenly looked like he had at the day on the cliff in Monte Carlo. Staring into the ocean beneath his feet, his own demons urging him to end his life then and there.

“Tony?” Steve prompted, wanting to take it all back at once. Whatever horrors Tony associated with the workshop, Steve wanted no part in them if it made Tony look like _this_.   
Finally, Tony cleared his throat. “I can show you the shop,” he said. “I just… I haven’t been there for a while. But if you wish to see it—”

“We don’t have to,” Steve said immediately.

It was the space he’d spent time with Indries the most, Steve figured. She’d been his muse, Stane had said. Of course Tony didn’t want to go there, being reminded of their happiest moments together.

“It was a stupid idea.”

Tony sighed. “No, it wasn’t. I’ll show it to you. Some other day, alright?”

“Alright,” Steve nodded.

“But then, I’m afraid you will have to share all of your artwork with me, too,” Tony added with a loveable cheeky grin, obviously eager to change the topic. “That’s only fair. And I mean all of them. Even the naked sketches you think I don’t know about.”

Steve’s face flamed, but he nodded anyway.

“Pepper loves art, by the way. So you’ll have a lot to talk about.” He winked. “And Happy will be glad to have someone other than himself she can talk to about it.”

Steve nodded, smiling, feeling lighter already.

“My friend, Rhodey, will be here tomorrow, as well,” Tony said. “It’s a coincidence, but perhaps it’s best that you meet them all at once. My family can be a little… much. They’ll likely be the people you see the most around here.”

“Who’s Rhodey?”

“Rhodey, he’s… well, the best friend I’ve had in as many years.” Tony took a long sip of wine. “We studied together, and he’s worked for the company for some time before he made a career of his own in the military. He’s eager to make your acquaintance. Everyone is.”

Eager to compare him to Indries, most likely.

What a terrifying thought.

“I’m eager to meet them as well,” Steve lied, and was glad when the lie brought an earnest smile to Tony’s lips.

Whatever had transpired during the day really had taken its toll on him, Steve thought. Tony’s clothes were disheveled, the goatee frayed from too many strokes of his hand. And he looked ready to drop to a well-deserved sleep.

What ghosts still held so much power over him, Steve wondered. And what could he possibly do to free Tony of their grasp?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait!

As Steve opened his eyes a few days later, the sun was already high in the sky, and there were voices and footsteps and sounds everywhere, as if the walls and the floors were always buzzing with life.

The mansion, it seemed, never slept.

Steve turned around, pleasantly sore from the previous night when Tony had walked into his bedroom just when Steve was about to go to sleep. Every inch of skin was still thrumming and Steve felt a smile on his lips as he turned to look at Tony’s slumbering form.

Only the bed was empty. As so often, Tony was nowhere to be found.

Disappointment trickled into Steve’s mind, though he tried to keep it at bay. Tony was a busy man, of course he couldn’t linger on such things as morning kisses and late sleep-ins, no matter how much Steve would’ve loved to wake in his arms from time to time.

Or that’s what Steve tried to tell himself instead of thinking back on Obadiah Stane’s words that maybe Steve was only here to be a distraction.

No—that wasn’t Tony. Steve _knew_ him. Knew how good of a man Tony was and of course he wouldn’t use Steve like this. He liked Steve. Even if he didn’t love him like Indries—he cared for him.

Didn’t he?

Slowly, Steve dressed himself and crept towards the Morning Room, his sketchbook tucked under his arm. Today, he’d meet Pepper and Tony’s other friends. He had no idea how much time he had before they arrived—or how long they’d stay. But he did wonder what they’d want to talk about. About the nature of his and Tony’s relationship? Would they approve? Or would they show their distaste openly like Stane had?

Stepping into the Morning Room, Steve heaved a great breath. He liked it here, no matter if Stane said the room was a poor substitute for the rooms in the west wing. He dropped his sketchbook on the great desk and sat down. The desk was made of fine wood, mahogany maybe, and it looked almost regal. On top of the wood finish lay a new box of fine pens and a stack of letters Steve hadn’t noticed before.

Had someone placed them here last night?

It had been Indries’ desk, Stane had said. Were the letters hers as well? Surely Stane wouldn’t come in here at night to put them into Steve’s sight, would he? But… as Steve took the letters in his hand, he realized that yes, it were indeed letters someone had written to Indries. Letters she’d seemingly kept in her possession. Steve looked the envelope and sighed. It were letters from Tony.

Why would Stane torment him like this? Show him Tony’s love letters? Was he really that petty? The letters had obviously been placed here, daring Steve to open them and read whatever Tony had written to his beloved wife.

But he wouldn’t. Invading Tony’s privacy like this was unthinkable. Determined, Steve grabbed the letters and pushed them into one of the many drawers. There was a slight resistance though, and Steve frowned as he looked down to see what the problem was. The bottom of the drawer was slightly askew.

Steve frowned and pulled, opening it further and trying to loosen the bottom piece. It took him a moment, but when it came free, his eyes widened as he noticed some sort of secret compartment beneath. There was another pack of letters in there, letters in blazing red envelopes, and underneath … a good few dozen bundles of one hundred dollar notes.

_What the hell?_

Steve reached for one of the hidden letters, turning it around and looking at the inscription. That definitely wasn’t Tony’s handwriting. It almost looked angry, cold and—

There was a knock on the door and Steve startled hard, almost knocking both of his knees against the desk. Hastily, he pushed the letters back inside the drawer, closing the hidden compartment, before he sat up straight and cleared his throat. “Come in,” he called timidly.

An elderly man stepped in and Steve was so very relieved to see it was Jarvis and not Stane. He cast Steve a warm and gentle smile.

“Master Rogers,” he greeted him and Steve felt himself blush at the foreign title. “Master Anthony wanted me to inform you that Mrs. and Mister Hogan will arrive in about half an hour.”

“Thank you,” Steve said, his voice smaller than he’d like it to be. “Should I go now…?”

Jarvis smiled. “You could, but Master Anthony is still working. So you might as well join me on my morning walk through the house, if you’d like.”

“Ah,” Steve said, nodding eagerly. “Yes, yes, I would like that very much.”

So he listened as Jarvis recited the day’s activities and together, they walked down the many corridors, chatting amiably. Throughout the last days, he felt he’d really grown close to Jarvis, not just because he talked to Steve as though he was genuinely interested in what he had to say, but also because he obviously cared a lot for his master. Walking by his side, the mansion suddenly seemed a lot less intimidating.

It was almost peaceful now—everyone was likely preparing for the visitors—and the dread Steve had often felt when he walked past the many portraits on the wall was merely a faint echo. The mansion was just that: a mansion. Nothing haunted about it.

When Jarvis accompanied him back to his room, he bowed slightly. “It was a pleasure talking to you, Master Rogers,” he said, and he sounded earnest about it.

“Call me Steve, please.”

Jarvis nodded and smiled. “If you ever need anything, feel free to come to me any time. We are all glad to see Master Anthony smile again.”

Steve ducked his head, not knowing what to say to that. He hadn’t seen Tony smile a lot lately, to be honest. “I’m not sure I have any part in it.”

“Oh, you do,” Jarvis said gently. He was about to turn around and leave, but he seemed to decide against it in the last moment, instead he once more put a hand on Steve’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “I know Anthony isn’t an easy man to deal with and you’re still very young. But he is a good man. Try to remember this, for I know living here will put you through a great deal of trials.”

With that, Jarvis left and Steve could only stare after him.

But instead of dwelling into the deeper meaning of his words, Steve started to dress himself properly for their visitors. He selected something simple, though Tony had bought him many fine clothes during their travels.

When meeting Tony’s best friends, he didn’t want to pretend he was someone he wasn’t.

As he walked down the stairs to the foyer, he was somehow surprised when he first saw Virginia Hogan. She had beautiful red hair and was dressed in fine clothing—but what got to him was her composure. She looked confident and exuded a certain sense of authority. Next to her stood a burly, large man and one that was a little leaner, with dark skin and very kind eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Steve walked down the stairs, making his presence known.

“Steve!” Tony called. “There you are. I was just about to send Jarvis up there to drag you down. Come here.”

“This place is just too large. The poor boy likely got lost,” Pepper said and cast Steve a brilliant smile. She extended a hand in his direction. “Hello. You must be the man who managed to find our friend behind all that gloomy exterior.”

Steve’s mouth twitched even as Tony rolled his eyes. “Hello,” he said and returned her surprisingly firm handshake.

He wanted to greet the man next to her but instead found himself drawn into a big hug. Pepper chuckled and said. “Steve, this is Harold, my husband.”

“It’s Happy,” the man replied as he let go of him again. “Just Happy.”

Steve nodded. The name certainly fit him. “I’m Steve. Nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet _you_ ,” Pepper said, grinning broadly. “I kept trying to pry information from Tony, but he insisted that I come up and meet you myself.”

Steve glanced to Tony, who only smiled softly. “Peps has a rather liberal definition of the word ‘insist,’” he replied. “I mentioned we were home, and she announced that she would be stopping by today to size you up.”

Pepper rolled her eyes, before putting her hands on Steve’s shoulders, looking him up and down. “Well. Aren’t you something,” she said. “No wonder he’s smitten with you.”

That had Steve smile, even as he heard Tony scoffing. “That’s no reason for you to manhandling my boyfriend. Could you stop that? I’d like to introduce him to Rhodey.”

Steve froze. Logically, he knew that he was Tony’s boyfriend. It just sounded odd to his ears—hearing that he was anyone’s boyfriend, let alone Tony’s.

Rhodey had little hair and a big smile. He had remained silent so far, but now smiled at Steve warmly when their eyes locked.

“I’m James Rhodes,” he said. “It’s really good to meet you, Steve. You can call me Rhodey.”

“Thank you,” he replied, nodding.

“And you and Tony met in Monte Carlo?”

Steve swallowed. “Yes,” he replied.

“How did you like it?” Happy asked. “Pepper and I were there right after our wedding.”

“I enjoyed it,” Steve replied, briefly glancing at Tony. “But my experience with places like Monte Carlo is limited. I have never been to a resort like that… as a vacationer.”

“Oh, right,” Pepper replied good-naturedly. “Tony mentioned that you were the traveling companion of that horrid person. Justin Hammer, wasn’t it? The guy couldn’t produce a working weapon if we gave him all of our money.”

“And anyone with resolve enough to tolerate the incessant blabbering of Justin Fucking Hammer is my sort of man,” Tony said, grinning proudly. “God, that guy was a lunatic.”

“Tony abhors socialites,” Rhodey told Steve. “With a passion.”

Steve snorted. “I noticed that,” he said, squeezing Tony’s hand just as Pepper tugged at his arm.

“I heard you draw,” she said, smiling privately.

“Uh, I do,” Steve admitted, “though I’m not too good.”

“Ah, Tony already warned me you were undermining your skills,” Pepper said. “We’ll see. I happen to know one or two things about art, and if _Tony_ can muster up some passion about it, you _have_ to be talented. Which means we have _so_ much to talk about!”

“Honestly, guys,” Tony said, gently prying him loose from Pepper’s grip. “you’re going to scar him for life.”

“It’s alright,” Steve said with a grin, leaning a bit against Tony. He liked these people already. All of this… it looked a lot like a great family reunion and Steve loved seeing Tony as carefree as he was now.

Was it his friends that brought this out? Steve wished he knew. But whatever it was, he never wanted to spoil this moment for him—to shut out the light and bring back the darkness.

Tony cocked a brow at him, as if trying to read his thoughts, but then he just leaned in and pressed a kiss against Steve’s cheek.

Steve stilled—as he always did whenever Tony showed him unexpected affections. Especially in public like this. But the others truly didn’t seem to care—they just smiled at them.

“You must show me your art someday,” Pepper told him. “Tony really got me curious—he seemed very fond of your sketches.”

“Sure…” Steve replied vaguely. “…someday.”

Pepper rolled her days. She turned to Tony. “Come on, you promised to reopen the workshop once you’re back home. I’m sure Steve hasn’t seen it yet, either,” she said. Over her shoulder, she said, “Am I right?”

Steve paused, before slowly shaking his head. He remembered exactly how Tony had all but frozen when he’d mentioned the workshop. The last thing he wanted to do now was to remind him of whatever it was that made him avoid the place. “No, I haven’t. But—”

“Oh, you _have_ to see it,” Pepper interrupted him. “It’s magnificent! Tony used to spend days down there. Whenever we were hosting a gala, he always preferred to hide in his workshop.” She smiled warmly. “When I was still his assistant I even had to make sure he ate regularly, because he just forgot everything around him once he was down there.”

That didn’t sound like much of a fond memory, but somehow, Pepper’s expression and the gentleness in her voice made it seem like one. And Steve could imagine it so easily, how Tony had passionately worked on his projects for hours and hours on end, determined to bring to life whatever his mind had come up with in theory.

He’d seen glimpses of Tony’s old self during their travels. Sometimes, when he’d woken up at night, he’d find Tony sitting at a desk, scribbling down formulas into his notebook or drawing patterns on his blueprints.

It’d been fascinating to watch him, humbling almost, but ever since their arrival at Stark Mansion, that man—that version of Tony—had seemingly vanished along with his carefreeness.

“Not today,” Tony said, his posture stiff. “Let’s just—”

“Oh, come on,” Pepper prompted on a long-suffering sigh. “Or didn’t you want Steve to see it?”

That was a dirty trick, Steve thought, but it seemed to work when Tony’s gaze became even more troubled. “No, of course not…” he said, then sighed in defeat. “Fine, let’s go.”

Steve almost spoke upto tell Tony that he didn’t need to do anything he felt uncomfortable with, but then again… he _was_ curious about the infamous workshop. After they’d talked about it, Tony had never mentioned it again… but maybe, once he’d set foot in there again, he’d find a few of the parts he’d lost of himself after Indries’ death.

So together, they all walked towards the giant stairway that Steve thought only led to the upper part of the mansion. But apparently, he just hadn’t realized that there was also a slimmer, less noticeable stairway leading to a lower floor.

“Will Stane be joining us?” Happy asked, after they’d arrived in a long, dark hallway.

Tony shook his head as he reached into his back pocket, drawing out a small key. There was only one single door on this floor and Steve’s heartbeat quickened when they all walked closer. “No,” Tony said. “He’s on a business trip. He said something about a big deal.”

“Oh?” Pepper asked. “With whom?”

Tony stilled, his jaw tightening. He put the key into the door, turning it around twice. “I didn’t ask for details.”

Pepper sighed. “Well. That’s nothing new,” she said, her voice subdued.

Steve frowned at the interaction. It seemed that there was some kind of tension between Pepper and Tony, one Happy apparently knew how to break. “Well, to be honest, I’m glad he isn’t here. He always makes me feel like I’m one bite away from the gallows.”

Steve couldn’t stifle a surprised laugh. That summed it up just fine.

“He has that effect on people,” Rhodey agreed with a grin.

When Tony finally opened the door, Steve held his breath, taking a first step into the large room that lay behind it.

After Tony had taken a long breath, seemingly coming to terms with whatever demons haunted him in here, he walked further into the room, and Pepper, Rhodey, Happy and Steve followed him.

Steve’s eyes only got bigger as he went. There were dozens of desks with an endless amount of machinery that looked a lot like it’d just dropped down here from a different world entirely. He’d known, of course, that Tony was called a genius—that newspaper described his inventions as masterpieces, but he still hadn’t been prepared to see it for himself.

This place was beyond anything he’d ever come across, beyond anything his imagination could come up with, and despite Steve’s limited knowledge of the technology behind it, he also suspected it was way past today’s standard.

Steve was keenly aware of Tony’s eyes on him as he walked around and took everything in. The lightness in his eyes was back, but it seemed fragile at best.

“What do you think?” he asked quietly.

“I’ve never…” Steve started, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it. “This is yours,” he told Tony in a hushed whisper. “This… feels like yours. The mansion is just that, a mansion, but this is yours. Your _home_.”

Tony stilled, a deep sadness taking hold of his features. He schooled his expression as best as he could, but Steve knew that whatever he’d said, it’d hit too close to home.

“It was,” he answered after a beat, a low sigh leaving his lips. “Once.”

Steve tried capturing Tony’s gaze. He almost dared to ask him to just tell him about the many times he and Indries had been down here. How much could it hurt, really? Wasn’t it better to talk about it? For a moment, Tony even looked like he wanted to tell him something, but then, he just shook his head and turned around… and that moment was gone.

“Where’s Dummy?” Pepper asked.

“In his compartment where he belongs,” Tony replied. “Or don’t you remember the last time I set him free down here?”

The memory brought grins to all of their faces. Steve frowned. “Who’s Dummy?”

“Tony’s robot,” Pepper explained.

“A… _robot?”_

“Tony designed it before the war started,” Happy explained. “It’s marvelous.”

“He’s a travesty,” Tony murmured. He met Steve’s eyes again. “I can show him to you if you want,” he explained gently. “But he’s a strange fellow. For one, don’t ever drink what he wants to offer you. No matter how good it looks. Alright?”

“Oh… alright. And I’d love to meet him.”

“Try to remember that in a moment,” Tony jested, then walked over to the other end of the room, to some kind of container. He pressed a few buttons, then one of the lids opened and out came… _something_.

It was—it was basically an arm on wheels, Steve thought, but with the way it bumped into Tony as if wanting to hug him, Steve knew it was so much more. Its movements were sluggish, uncoordinated and loud—very _loud_ —as if there was a small steam train driving through the workshop.

“Yes, yes, I’m back. Calm down, for heaven’s sake,” Tony told the robot, then looked up at Steve. “Steve, that’s Dummy. Dummy—Steve.”

“Nice to meet you,” Steve said and smiled when the robot slowly rolled over to him, moving its claw up and down as if shaking his hand.

Steve grinned, and when he glanced back at Tony, he was almost certain for a second that there were tears in his eyes.

 

* * *

 

They stayed in the workshop for about an hour and Tony very patiently showed Steve a few of the inventions he’d made the last time he’d been in the workshop.

There was a thin layer of dust covering everything down here, and Steve knew without fault that Tony hadn’t been here since his wife died.

Before the others left again, Pepper had taken Steve to the side, placing a hand on his shoulder as she led him out of Tony’s hearing range.

“Don’t let him shut you out,” she told him. “I know it can get rather isolating out here and Tony often travels to town to attend conferences. Or he used to, before he let Obadiah take over for him. But please don’t let him draw back again.”

Steve nodded, not knowing what to say when he still knew so little of what had transpired.

There was a slight pause. Pepper exhaled deeply. “Tell me, how was your first impression of Obadiah?”

The man’s name sent a shiver down Steve’s spine. “He was very… informative,” he said diplomatically.

Pepper grinned. “I’m sure he was. Quite a character, isn’t he? We owe him for helping out in the last year, but… don’t let him get under your skin, Steve. He has a habit of doing so, especially to you, since he adored Indries.”

It nearly startled Steve out of his skin to hear the name given life. Not ‘Tony’s wife’, not ‘Mrs. Stark’. Pepper had said her name.

The ground seemed to rumble beneath Steve’s feet. And if he listened very carefully, he could almost imagine Stark Mansion sighing happily just to have the name of its old mistress in the air once more.

“I won’t,” Steve said numbly, because Pepper was right. Obadiah Stane was just trying to rile him up, and Steve wouldn’t let him succeed. His eyes traveled to Tony.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’ll be good for him,” Pepper said, breaking Steve’s reverie. “For Tony.”

“Thank you.”

Pepper nodded, continuing, “I have to say, though, you’re not at all what I thought you’d be. Not the sort of people that Tony used to…” She frowned, sighing and shaking her head. “That’s not what I mean. I mean that… well, you’re different.” She paused. “You’re nothing like Indries.”

Once more, Stark Mansion’s shadow hummed in pleasure as Steve felt his insides flush cold. He _knew_ he wasn’t like Indries—not as regal, not as elegant.

He hadn’t known how to reply, so he hadn’t said anything at all and only watched as the others left the room.

“I think she liked you,” Tony said, once they were alone, drawing Steve back to the present. He leaned against one of the workshop’s desks, studying Steve intently. “They all liked you. Even Dummy.”

Steve offered a smile. “They did?”

“Oh yes. Pepper will certainly come by very often, talking your ear off about art and… me.”

He grinned and reached for one of Tony’s hands. As always, Steve’s skin tingled when their fingers entwined. And again, he wondered how silly he was, for his heart to flutter like a teenager, when in truth, much more than Tony’s hands had touched him. When he knew what it felt like to take him inside. And yet, the heat on his cheeks refused to fade.

“I don’t mind,” Steve replied, determined to keep Tony talking. “Pepper’s great.”

Tony chuckled and squeezed his hand. “That’s one way to put it,” he observed, stepping aside as the robot, Dummy, bounded merrily in front of them, putting back a few tools Tony had used in the last hour.

“Dummy,” Tony called, rolling his eyes. “Remind me, why did I ever think you were a good idea?”

Steve snorted when he saw what annoyed Tony so much. The robot had somehow managed to get completely tangled within a few cables. Its claw hung low in the air, almost as if it were ashamed.

Tony sighed deeply, even as he stepped forward to help the robot out of its misery. And Steve smiled when he saw him petting the claw fondly.

When Tony straightened up again, his gaze travelled over the vast space of the workshop. His body stilled. “I used to come here to clear my thoughts, you know,” he said without looking at Steve. “It was my sanctuary and I came here at least once a day… even when life was at its busiest.”

“But you haven’t been in a while,” Steve finished. _Not since Indries hasn’t been here anymore to keep you company._

Tony sobered, drawing in a low breath. He shook his head. “No. Not in a year, at least,” he replied. “I used to come here to write. To draw inspiration. To…” A pause. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “To think of the future.”

That haunted tone Steve hated so much had crept into his voice without warning. The implication made Steve’s bones sting.

Dummy trotted around them with a notable lack of confidence, turning every few yards to make sure he hadn’t done anything wrong. And despite the fact that the robot very clearly did not belong to Steve, he found himself easily won over by his cheerful bounce and low whirring. He was a happy unique thing; oblivious to the tension that dripped from every corner of the Stark property. And Steve envied his unawareness.

He released a soft breath and let his eyes once more take everything in. “For what it’s worth, I’ve never seen anything so breathtaking,” he told Tony. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“I thought you’d like it.” Tony smiled gently. He walked over to him, his thumb stroking the back of Steve’s hand. “And I hoped you might come here again, sometime. When I work. You could stay here and draw a little,” Tony suggested.

“I can?” Steve asked. The idea that Tony would allow him into a place he treasured—his favorite room of Stark Mansion, for sure—warmed Steve’s heart. And it made the ground he stood on seem almost sacred.

“Only if you want to, of course. I just know that my best ideas come to me when I’m here. And I’d like the company.”

“I’d love to,” Steve replied honestly and a genuine smile stretched his lips. Perhaps today had changed things. He didn’t know, and he wasn’t about to gamble that his concerns—his worries and his jealousy over a woman whose home was now a tomb—were now issues of the past. But there was a sense of accomplishment that came with standing in Tony’s most private place he could not deny.

Tony had called it his sanctuary, and he’d let Steve in.

Steve wanted to step in and kiss Tony when Dummy suddenly took off in a speed-roll across the room—and towards a different exit door. The move was so spontaneous that it took a few seconds for Steve to register in which direction he’d darted.

There had to be another adjoining room, but once Dummy had the door opened, Steve realized that the sounds of the ocean instantly increased. Over the past weeks, he’d become increasingly aware of the crash of wild water. It had become so familiar so quickly that he hadn’t noticed the vibrations grow louder.

Was there a passage towards the sea? The workshop was situated way below the cliff’s edge, so there probably was a pathway down to the beach.

“Oh,” Steve inhaled sharply. “Dummy!”

Tony stiffened. “He’ll be fine,” he said. “He—”

But Steve wasn’t listening. Without realizing it, his feet were leading him outside. “I’ll get him!” he called over his shoulder.

“Steve!” Tony yelled after him. “Let him! He’ll find his own way back!”

But Dummy was already speeding across the next room and now that Steve had stepped into it, he saw that there was indeed an open pathway towards the beach.

What if he fell down into the water?

Steve hurried to catch up, only briefly taking in the new surroundings.

The room served as some kind of boathouse, it seemed. There were a few rafts and paddles hanging on the walls. Everything was coated with thick dust as well, and as soon as Steve had reached Dummy, holding his claw to keep him from moving away any further, a dreadful sensation took hold of his heart.

The second Steve’s eyes landed on the bay in front of him, he was deafened by the crash of the waves. By the roll of the clouds against the horizon. The swish of the sand as water washed along the coast. The scene was breathtaking, but somehow callous—open and lonely. No matter how far he looked, nothing was there to look back. Even the stretch of land that encompassed the water before spilling into the ocean looked empty.

Steve shivered hard and crossed his arms. Something was very wrong here.

Dummy whirred, waiting at his side.

“We best be getting back,” Steve told him.

When he crossed the threshold towards the workshop, however, Steve knew immediately that the warmth between Tony and him—the warmth he’d wanted so hard to hold onto—was gone.

Tony stared at him for empty seconds as though he’d never seen him before.

“You can never go in there again,” he told Steve, his tone cold and distant. Tony had never spoken to him like that before—and he was shaking, Steve realized, a nervous hand running through his dark hair as he ostensibly fought for control. “I asked you not to go. For God’s sake—”

“I was just—”

“You were _just_ … I told you that Dummy could find his way back!”

“I went because I wasn’t aware it was a big _deal_ , Tony,” Steve replied with a steady voice. And by the look in Tony’s eyes, he’d crossed a line. “If you’d just tell me…”

“Tell you?!” Tony turned away from Steve. “You wouldn’t want to know,” he continued, storming furiously in the direction of staircase. “Not if you had my memories!”

“But I don’t,” Steve yelled as his feet took off after him. “Can’t you see that?”

“Steve—”

“You have to tell me what to _do!”_ There must have been a desperate note in Steve’s voice that reached him, for the next second, Tony’d frozen in place. “I never know what to do, Tony. My God, I’ve been lost since we got here! I’ve never felt so lost in my life. And I can’t talk to you—”

Tony whirled around the next second. “Yes you can,” he protested. “Of course you can.”

“No, I can’t! Whatever I say or do… it’s wrong, you see? And if I don’t speak, it’s still wrong. And I can’t talk to you because…” He swallowed hard. If he didn’t do this now, he’d never again have the courage. “Because I _don’t_ have your memories. The look in your eyes right now. The way… you sometimes go where I can’t follow. And there’s nothing I can do or say to make it better.” He threw his arms up in frustration. “And even if there was, I wouldn’t know what to say. I don’t understand why you chose _me_.”

“Steve, I—”

“I’m young. And I’m so far from you, Tony.”

“Stop.”

“No, I—”

“Stop!”

He didn’t know when Tony had come so close; all he knew was that his hands had closed around his upper arms and his mouth was on Steve’s in a hard, almost demanding kiss. The contact was so sudden that Steve didn’t realize what had happened until Tony’d released him.

“I’m sorry,” Tony murmured, trembling. He was _trembling_. “Fuck, I never should have brought you here,” he said softly, a long, resigned sigh rolling off his shoulders. He brushed a kiss across his brow. “God, I wish I’d never come back.”

Steve’s body tightened with anxiety. Slowly, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Tony’s lean frame. “We’ll make it work,” he whispered. Blindly, he pressed his lips to Tony’s, but pulled away before he could react. He couldn’t stand the sting of rejection. Not now. He was determined to deny him the chance. “I love you. We’ll make it work.”

Tony said nothing. His arms tightened around him, but he said nothing.

Steve had never known a louder silence.


	6. Chapter 6

After a while, the halls of Stark Mansion slowly became familiar. However, the distance Tony kept between them was only growing with time. Steve still cherished whatever moments he had with him, but they often left him emotionally drained.

The longer Tony seemed to be here, back in his and Indries’ home, the more he seemed to be reminded of the severity of his loss, of the love he once had but that was gone now forever. Only at night would Tony smile at him, kiss him, and Steve would remember how Tony’s body felt against his own. How it felt when Tony was just _his_ and no one else’s.

At least, until his murmurs for Indries would leave his lips, inevitably keeping Steve awake all night.

Steve spent a lot of time in the gym rooms, these days. Punching away on the many training bags or lifting weights. At first, it didn’t take much to get him out of breath, and more often than not, he found himself wheezing on the floor. But after a while, after weeks passing, his body seemed to adapt, even gaining a little muscle.

When he wasn’t working out, Steve often took his sketchbook to the workshop and lost himself for hours without saying a word to Tony. For some reason, the workshop was the only place where he did not feel Indries haunting him. Even though he knew Tony must’ve spent a lot of time there with her, Steve didn’t feel her ghost following him around every corner.

And while Steve no longer felt the walls of Stark Mansion were suffocating him, he sometimes still wondered about Mister Hammer’s words. That Tony would eventually tire of him. It might be the truth, and yet Steve couldn’t summon enough regret to wish himself away from Tony’s side. He’d known, from the start, that Tony’s heart belonged to his dead wife—had known that his own love would have to be enough for both of them.

By now, Steve had met all of Tony’s other friends. A few employees and scientists he worked with, especially Bruce Banner who was a regular guest—and even the ones Tony clearly only named ‘friends’ because courtesy demanded it.

All of them were rich—not as rich as Tony—but Steve soon realized this was indeed America’s high society walking in and out of Stark Mansion.

And the thing was: While Tony didn’t talk of Indries, his ‘friends’ spoke about her all the time. They told Steve about her ethereal beauty, her cleverness, her wit—about how Tony had always looked at her like he couldn’t believe his own luck.

All of them mentioned how they looked forward to seeing the ‘old Tony’ return to Stark Mansion instead of that shell of a man he was today, though Steve had heard some of them whispering that they believed that version of Tony had ultimately died with his great love. But of course they still hoped that both Stark Mansion and Tony could be restored to their former grandeur.

 _Restored_. It was a word Steve hated with a passion. It sounded as if Tony was broken.

It was sometime during his fourth month at the mansion that Tony picked up his hand during dinner and held it between both of his own. It was soft and warm, and familiarly stained with oil. He kissed the tip of each of Steve’s fingers.

“I have to go to the city for a few days,” he told him. “A business meeting. Obi insists I should go myself.”

There was a heavy pause and Steve didn’t know what to say.

“It might be a chance to talk about… well… the ‘light bulb’.”

“Arc reactor,” Steve filled in.

Tony smiled. “Yes. Arc reactor. It’s not easy to find people who are willing to participate in a project that is highly experimental at best. Bruce Banner showed an interest when I talked to him, that’s why I’ll have to take that next step now. Obi isn’t thrilled about the whole thing—and that’s definitely a euphemism—but he said if I wanted to find investors, I had to do the presentations myself, and he’s right about it. No one else can do it. It’ll take a while, talking to everyone. Two weeks, maybe more.”

Steve felt himself nod. He was glad that Tony decided to pursue this invention he’d been working on for so long. Still… “When are you leaving?”

At this question, an aggrieved look appeared in Tony’s lovely brown eyes. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“But soon?”

“Soon,” Tony confirmed. His voice sounded throaty and strange. A moment later, he pushed his face into Steve’s neck and breathed in. “So many nights without you. How am I supposed to bear it?”

“Then don’t go,” Steve said softly. Followed immediately by: “No— _Go_. Don’t listen to me. I know you have to. It’s important. I just—”

One of Tony’s hands tenderly stroked his hair. “Yes?”

“I’ll miss you.”

Tony raised Steve’s gaze with fingers on his chin. He smiled and kissed him deeply. “I’ll miss you, too. So much.”

 

* * *

 

The days after Tony had left passed slowly, and soon enough, Steve began to dream of him. For the first night and every night thereafter, there was the same dream—not the sweet and sometimes sensual dreams of before, but a horrible vision of Indries and Tony both lying dead in the ocean.

Steve would wake up in the middle of the night, sweaty and shaking, staring at the ceiling until morning. There was so much about Indries’ death that he still did not understand. And so his days were spent gazing out the window, chewing on his bottom lip. The bed felt empty without Tony’s body beside him; without his weight pressed into the mattress, silently reassuring Steve that he wasn’t alone, despite it all.

During the day, he mostly occupied himself in his room, emerging only to eat. But today, it was too beautiful outside to confine himself indoors. Days like this were made for spending at the cliff with his sketchpad. So that was exactly what he did.

A long sigh left Steve’s lips as his gaze travelled over the horizon. He was too lost in his thoughts to notice someone stepping up to him. That someone called his name and Steve startled when a hand touched his shoulder. He glanced up and met Rhodey’s eyes.

“Steve,” he said, a warm smile brightening his face. “There you are.”

“Oh, hello, Jim.”

Rhodey inclined his head toward Steve’s sketchpad. “Am I interrupting?”

“No. I was just thinking.”

“Do you mind some company?” Rhodey asked.

Steve hesitated for a beat, then smiled and motioned for Rhodey to sit down. He hadn’t seen him since their first visit to the mansion. He sometimes visited Tony, but Steve rarely got to see him. Which meant…

“Did Tony ask you to come by and look after me?” he wanted to know and a small, shy smile spread over Rhodey’s face as he nodded.

“Don’t be mad. He just feared you’d be bored out of your mind before he returned home. I had the day off so… I asked Jarvis where to find you and he said you’d likely be in the workshop. When I didn’t find you there I tried the cliffs.”

“It’s not the same down there without Tony,” Steve explained.

There was another long beat of silence, before Rhodey said, “So, how do you like life at Stark Mansion?”

There were so many answers going through Steve’s head, but he didn’t want Rhodey to tell Tony that he wasn’t happy here. “It’s… pleasant,” he forced himself to say instead.

A small smile tickled the Rhodey’s lips. “‘Pleasant’? That must’ve hurt.”

Steve sighed. “It’s just… I haven’t gotten used to it, yet. But I will. At some point.”

“Tony told me something about a never-ending parade of visitors?”

Steve glanced at him, his shoulders sagging. “Not sure how Tony can stand them.”

“He doesn’t,” Rhodey explained on a grin. “He usually asks Pepper to do that for him—or Obi.”

Steve nodded, more to himself, and let his gaze wander across the landscape. From here, he could even see the lower part of the mansion where he knew the workshop was located—and the adjoining room.

“Jim, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

He took a deep breath. “The day Tony took us all to the workshop—I chased Dummy until coming across the room nearby. It led straight to the ocean…”

The flicker of uncertainty flashed across Rhodey’s eyes. He cleared his throat. “Oh?”

“It was some kind of storage room for boats.”

“Yes, the boathouse. Tony used to go sailing a lot,” Rhodey explained.

“But he doesn’t,” Steve guessed. “Not anymore.”

“No,” Rhodey agreed tentatively. “Not anymore.”

“Why is that?”

Rhodey sighed. “To be honest: Indries’ loved sailing far more than Tony ever did. She loved the ocean. So after they got married, the room was hers.”

“And it was… she took one of those boats, the day she died?”

The air between them stilled. As did Rhodey’s expression.

“Yes,” he said eventually. “It capsized and sank.”

“And she just went out there, completely alone? Wasn’t she afraid?”

“Indries wasn’t afraid of anything,” Rhodey whispered. “But, Steve—”

“Can you tell me more?” Steve asked quickly, eager to keep him talking. “About her?”

“You should ask T—”

“I _can’t_ ,” Steve said fiercely. “You know I can’t talk to him about her. He shuts me out, he shuts _everyone_ out who dares to say her name. But… Jim, I can’t understand him if I don’t know what happened to her. It’s not that I’m morbidly curious. It isn't that. I just want to help him, so if I knew what—”

“Steve—”

“—what I can say and what I can’t, if I knew all the things I shouldn’t do, then maybe I can start to live with the fact that he’ll never love me as he loved her.”

Steve stiffened, realizing what he’d just said. And when he glanced at Rhodey, he saw a strange sadness in his eyes.

Oh God, he _pitied_ him.

“You can’t think that,” Rhodey whispered, reaching for Steve’s hands. “I can't even tell you how glad I am that you've met Tony. You have no idea how good it is that he found someone like yourself who’s not entirely in tune with Stark Mansion.”

Steve bit back a flinch at Rhodey’s confirmation that he didn’t fit in here. “I just want to know what I can do to make him happy. I don’t want to upset him all the time. But it’s impossible. All I know is what a unique woman she was. And it feels like I’m losing him if Indries remains such a mystery to me. Please. Give me _something_.”

Another thick silence filled the air between them. Then, Rhodey relented. “She was… enigmatic. Charismatic. She certainly was beautiful,” he told Steve quietly. “I can’t even tell you what it was, exactly, but there was something about her drawing you right in. Everyone I know was fascinated with her. She just had a way of making you admire her, you know?”

Steve swallowed hard and nodded.

“Tony wasn’t exactly known to have, well, ‘steady relationships’ as long as I’d known him, but with Indries… I don’t know how she did it. I think it was easy for her to keep him entertained since she loved throwing parties…” Rhodey sighed and gazed wistfully towards the ocean. “And when she wasn’t planning an event, she would go sailing with her friends or travelling to Los Angeles or other cities.”

“She sounds… charming,” Steve said.

Tony never made it seem like he missed that sort of charm and glamour. With Steve, he’d certainly chosen a partner who was everything Indries’ hadn’t been.

Why, Steve had never understood.

“Maybe,” Rhodey replied. “But you have qualities that are far more important. You’re kind, honest, sincere. And you care for Tony. That’s worth a lot.”

“Thanks,” Steve said, though his heart wasn’t in it. It was a nice thought, surely, but it didn’t change the fact that Tony had fallen in love with Indries—and not with Steve. “And how… how’d she die?”

Rhodey sighed again, but didn’t let him wait too long. “Well… she loved the thrill,” he continued. “It wasn’t just sailing—she loved everything that was exciting, everything that was dangerous. The day she died… we’re all still not sure what happened. She just disappeared. Tony didn’t tell me anything—he shut me out just as much as he did with Pepper, but two months later, Indries’ body was discovered along the coast. It was Tony who had to identify her. And…” He sighed, wringing his hands together, followed by a shrug of his shoulders. “He just wasn’t the same man afterwards. I think seeing her like that just… broke him.”

Steve lowered his sketchpad to the ground, suddenly unable to hold its weight any longer. It was… it was a horrible thought. That Tony might be permanently broken with no way to fix him.

“That’s what all of those visitors said, too,” he whispered. “That he wasn’t the same man. That he’ll never be again. And I… I could live with that. I love Tony, no matter what. But he won’t talk to me, and sometimes, when he wakes up in the morning, I think he still expects to see her instead of me, and I just…”

There was a sob mingling with the air and Steve realized with a certain amount of horror that it was _his_ throat locking down, unable to hold his sadness in any longer.

“Steve, my God… you…”

“I don’t know why he brought me here. He doesn’t want me, not like her… I don’t know why he thought that _I_ could make him happy.”

“Stop!” Rhodey said, turning around and reaching for Steve’s hands. “Fuck, Steve. Stop twisting yourself in knots over this. Indries is dead! Tony knows that—we _all_ know that. None of us wants to live in the past. Tony least of all. And no one is expecting you to take her place, you just have to be yourself. Don’t you see how much you helped him already? I haven’t seen him smile in months, and with you… He _is_ happy. Don’t you see that?”

No he didn’t. Not always, at least. And Tony didn’t love him—it was obvious. Rhodey didn’t even try to deny it.

Steve pressed his lips together and said nothing.

He didn’t know what Tony wanted anymore, at all.

 

* * *

 

When Steve walked back to the mansion, stepping into the great entrance hall, a hushed conversation drifted through the air. Steve recognized the deep timber of Stane’s voice immediately, but there was someone else with him. Someone Steve _didn’t_ know. And they were both in the west wing.

Steve stopped, frowning.

He had never set foot in the west wing before—not after what Stane had told him about it: That it had been Indries and Tony’s space and that Tony had deliberately relocated Steve’s room to the other side of the house.

Stane, of course, wouldn’t have those reservations. The way he behaved, he probably considered the mansion as his own property.

Slowly, Steve walked up the stairway and then further towards the corridor leading to the west wing. He stopped just before the corner, staying very still.

The other man had a booming roar of a voice that bounced off the walls. He spoke with a thick accent and Steve figured it simply was one of Stark Industries’ business partners.

“I don’t even know why I’m surprised,” Steve heard Stane snap, his voice angry. “If you’d done everything like you were supposed to, we wouldn’t be here now.”

“You said he’d be drunk! That he’s always drunk on his business trips.”

“He used to be,” Stane said. “It’s probably the new boy he’s fucking. I noticed he drank less, but I was sure he’d be back to his habits once he’s alone.”

Steve’s eyes widened at the crude words, his whole body stiffening. It was one thing that Stane insulted him right to his face, but why would he talk about him to one of Tony’s business affiliates?

The man chuckled. “Nothing quite like taking up a new one before the sheets get cold, huh? What’s he like?”

“Young, naïve, stupid. He won’t be a problem for long.”

“If he’s getting Stark to drop the entire weapon department, then I’d say the boy is—”

 _“Not. a. problem._ Before Indries, Tony had someone new in his bed twice a week,” Stane snapped. “Trust me, he’ll get bored of him soon. And then we can continue as planned.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

There was a prolonged pause, and Steve felt the hairs on his arms stand on end.

“Then we’ll take care of it,” Stane said. “Tony will do what I tell him. He wouldn’t dare not to. Not to me. Not after what happened. So if I tell him the boy’s trouble, he’ll get rid of him. One way or the other.”

By now, Steve’s heart pounded and his pulse raced. He took a step backwards, then another, and bumped right into a vase, which stood on a small table, nearly pushing both objects to the ground. He grabbed them just in time so they wouldn’t crash on the floor, then slowly turned around. The last thing he wanted was to be caught eavesdropping by Stane, thus he crept over the threshold of the nearest room. He took a quick look around the small guest room, before resolutely placing himself behind the door.

“Did you hear something?” the man’s voice carried over, louder than before.

“Probably just the stupid robot,” Stane replied, his words now perfectly audible as well. They had to be walking down the hallway. “A waste of good material, but that sentimental fool always lets it roam freely.”

The other man chuckled at that and Steve pressed one ear against the door to listen to their steps slowly receding.

He didn’t breathe freely until he was alone.

What the hell had he just listened to? He wasn’t even sure he wanted an answer.

God, he needed Tony to come home right now. He needed to talk to him about this—about those things Stane had said, which collided nicely with the ghosts already following Steve around. But more importantly: He wanted Tony to be _safe_. Right where Steve could make sure to keep it that way.

Opening the door, Steve’s eyes moved towards the forbidden stretch of hallway, which led to the west wing. The only place in Stark Mansion he had yet to explore.

Before Steve could stop himself, his feet carried him forward. While he walked, the only thing he was aware was his own thundering heartbeat.

He didn’t know what he’d expected, exactly, but the west wing didn’t look any different than the east wing. Every time he’d thought about the place where Indries had lived—the place that was now empty—he’d envisioned a forgotten place with cobwebbed walls, drawn curtains and white sheets covering the furniture. He’d envisioned a place no one lived in any more.

But this, _here_ , was definitely a place that looked very much lived-in. Every room was filled with light, every piece of furniture neat and spotless.

He could almost envision Indries simply standing behind the next corner, waiting for him with a confident smile and a perfectly elegant dress.

Slowly, Steve turned, walking towards what he assumed was the former master bedroom. Once standing in the doorway, he froze, not quite grasping what lay right in front of him.

The room was… perfect. A stream of warm sunlight poured through the windows, illuminating the white marble floor. Everything smelled nicely, too, and fresh flowers were placed on the sideboards. There was a huge bed right in the middle of the room and its sheets and pillows were neatly made. There even was a nightgown placed upon the mattress and a pair of slippers waiting on the floor.

Steve couldn’t believe his own eyes. The room was like a time capsule, preserving life as it had been a year ago, when Indries was still alive.

Steve felt sick to his bones. Was this Tony’s doing? Was he trying to keep his dead wife from leaving him?

“Oh Tony,” Steve breathed. He needed to get out. He needed to get out _now_.

“You’ve always wanted to see this room, haven’t you, Mister Rogers?”

The sudden intrusion nearly startled Steve out of his skin. He jumped and turned, unable to say or do anything when he saw Stane walking in, his cane firmly in hand.

“I would have loved to show it to you,” he told Steve as he came nearer. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Indries had infamous taste.”

He let the words linger in the air, smiling at Steve. Once he’d walked to the other side of the room, Stane opened the armoire and cautiously reached for a black satin dress. “This for example… it was a gift from Tony. He always bought her the most expensive things, you know? Not just for their anniversaries, the whole year around.”

Steve swallowed thickly and said nothing as he tracked Stane’s movements.

“Everything is just the way it was,” Stane continued as he walked to the vanity, picking up a brush. “She often sat here, brushing her hair. Sometimes I think I can still hear her. Humming a melody. Not just here… in the whole house.”

“Mister Stane…” Steve started, though his voice was hushed, as if he couldn’t form decent words anymore.

“Do you think,” Stane continued wistfully, turning back to Steve, “that the dead come back and watch the living? Do you think Indries watches when you’re in bed with Tony?”

Steve’s eyes widened. He just couldn’t stand this any longer. He _couldn’t_.

As fast as he could, he stumbled out of the room and raced down the hall, determined to get as far from Obadiah Stane as possible before he could do something stupid like punch him in the guts.

The words from before raced through his mind.

_Tony will do what I tell him. He wouldn’t dare not to. Not to me. Not after what happened._

What _had_ happened? Why did Stane hold so much power over Tony? And would he truly do whatever Stane told him to?

Stane had sounded so sure of himself, like there was no way in this world or the next that Tony would ever doubt him.

A small voice inside Steve’s head agreed. Why should Tony trust _him_ , someone he’d barely known for a few months, and not the man he’d known since he’d been a child?

Steve ran. He ran until his legs collapsed at the foot of the staircase leading to Tony’s workshop, and waited for the world to stop spinning.

Waited for Tony to finally come home and make sense of all this madness.


	7. Chapter 7

“A ball.” Pepper’s eyebrows were raised up so high that her bangs covered them completely. “You want to throw a ball.”

Tony nodded his head in agreement, resting a steadying hand on Steve’s knee and Steve—despite everything that had happened in the last few days—could only lean into him. “I do.”

“ _You_ ,” Pepper specified, as though the concept was entirely foreign to her. “Are you _nuts?”_

Steve watched as Happy met Rhodey’s eyes, barely holding in his grin. “Such delicate words, darling.”

If Pepper noticed the amusement in her husband’s voice, she made no note of it. “I just… I don’t understand. For months we tried to get you to live a little, and now you’ve just decided to throw a ball. In a _week?”_ She sounded highly disbelieving and her eyes narrowed as she took in Happy’s muffled snickering.

“Means to an end,” Tony explained, drumming his fingers on the table a few times before he looked back up to meet Pepper’s stare. “Banner agreed to work on the arc reactor with me. Now we need partners. Partners who know what they’re doing in their respective fields. And we need them fast if I want to do this while I still have investors.”

“And you want to do that by throwing a ball.”

Tony shrugged. “Everyone loves parties. If I just call them, they’ll probably think the project is a hoax. They have to see it. We’ll send invitations to Reed, Pym. All of them. If just _one_ of them accepts, they’ll all come. They’ll be too afraid to miss something big. And they’d be damn right about it.”

They all stared at Tony with open mouths. And Steve was sure that they all thought the same thing: Tony had never been this eager about something. His eyes were bright, one of his legs bouncing lightly as if he couldn’t possibly sit still any longer.

This was how Steve had always imagined the ‘old Tony’ to be. A man driven by his own ideas. A man shaping the future, no matter the odds. He’d seen glimpses of him while they’d traveled through Southern Europe, and seeing that devotion back in his eyes now, it almost had Steve tearing up.

Which was precisely the reason why he hadn’t yet told Tony about what had happened with Obadiah.

When Tony had returned home a few hours ago, all Steve had wanted to do was talk to him. _Really_ talk to him. About Stane. About Indries. Together, they could surely figure out a way to deal with this mess. If only Tony would listen.

But once Tony’d been back home, Stane had all but dug his claws into him, monopolizing his time for hours on end, not letting Tony out of sight once.

Pepper put the fork in her hand back on her plate and leaned forward, turning her full attention on Tony. “Alright. A ball, then. But if we do this we have to invite all of our business associates and acquaintances, too, I hope you’re aware of that.”

Tony looked annoyed with that, but remained serene.

“Also, Steve’s probably never been to a ball, have you?” Happy asked him, raising a brow. “If it’s your first ball, we have to do it right.”

“No,” Steve agreed. “I haven’t.” He felt Tony’s eyes piercing right through him. He squeezed his hand.

“It’s a lot of fun,” Pepper admitted begrudgingly. “And Stark Mansion was certainly known for them.”

Tony shifted in his seat, his grip on Steve’s knee becoming a bit tight for a moment. “Yes, it was.”

“Alright,” Pepper said eventually and only a beat later, she began to talk of all the preparations that would be necessary for the ball to happen on such a short notice. However, Steve hardly heard what she said, because the look on Tony’s face was absent once more, and Steve could see from the way his shoulders drew upward that he was trying to hide something.

Was he remembering the many balls he’d hosted with Indries at his side?

“You’ll enjoy yourself,” Rhodey said to Steve, drawing his attention. “Don’t worry.”

“God knows this place could stand some music and dancing,” Pepper observed, then stood up and went to work.

 

* * *

 

The days that followed were filled with preparations for the ball. So busy, in fact, that Steve hardly had a chance to speak to Tony, and almost no time at all to see him alone.

And even if there was—wherever Tony went, Stane seemed to follow, whispering in his ear.

As for Stark Mansion, the transformation was unlike anything Steve had ever witnessed. The building had always been a sight to behold, but now, it almost looked majestic: the gardens, the entry hall, even the kitchen. And although a part of Steve truly dreaded the ball, he still wanted everyone to enjoy themselves.

A few days ago, Tony had even ordered him a new tuxedo. And as Steve soon learned, a seamstress with two assistants and unlimited use of the Stark funds could achieve amazing things in just a few hours.

“You’re very welcome,” Tony’d said when Steve had thanked him, pressing a kiss against his temple. One of his hands had brushed over the soft fabric covering Steve’s back. “You’ve changed,” he’d commented.

Somehow, the tone of Tony’s voice had made him shiver. “Changed?”

“Yeah… Your arms, your back… I think you’ve even grown a little.” Tony’d smiled, then leaned in, and when he nosed at his neck, Steve realized it was true—Tony didn’t have to lean down at all anymore.

“Late growth spurt, maybe,” Steve’d said.

Tony’d hummed. “I like it.” He’d taken a step back, looking Steve up and down once more before meeting his gaze again. “We’re going to have some fun tonight. Right?”

“Of course,” Steve had said softly.

Tony’s head had tilted as he considered him. “Are you alright? You seem… I don’t know. Like something’s bothering you.”

“It’s nothing,” Steve had whispered.

All of the other words between them hung thick and heavy in the air, but otherwise remained unspoken. Steve just couldn’t bring himself to tell Tony. He didn’t know how without destroying everything.

_The man you treat like your father is betraying you._

_He wants to drive us apart._

_I’m not sure I can live without your love forever._

The words were all there. Choking Steve. But he just couldn’t do it.

Tony had reached up and brushed back the hair that fell across Steve’s forehead. Steve had closed his eyes, feeling his face heat at Tony’s touch.

He thought Tony had wanted to say something then, but Pepper had already called Tony’s name, asking to discuss some very important thing about the hors d’oeuvre, and the moment was gone. Steve had watched him as Tony continued down the hallway, lightly touching his fingertips to the place where his hand had been.

And he’d thought: There would be another time.

Now, as the first guests arrived, Steve was a nervous wreck. Rhodey had given him a crash course in the most popular dances, and Steve picked them up fairly quick. But there was so much to remember, and he was afraid that he would forget which was which and end up embarrassing himself.

Slowly, he pulled on the finished suit, then stared at his reflection for a few dazed minutes. He barely recognized himself and silently wondered what Bucky would think of him now.

He’d probably laugh at his dumbfound expression and tell him to get his head outta his ass.

God, he missed Bucky fiercely.

“Master Steve,” came Jarvis’ warm voice from the door. “I was asked to inform you that Mister and Mrs. Hogan have arrived along with Mister Rhodes. Master Anthony wonders when you’ll join them.”

Steve nodded. “I’m coming. Thank you.”

So he took a last deep breath and slowly walked towards the entrance hall. The first thing he heard was Pepper’s confident voice, accompanied by Happy, who said something that made everyone around him laugh. Then, Steve rounded the corner and appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Steve!” Pepper called when she noticed him approaching. “We were wondering what kept you.”

Steve smiled, ignoring the condescending look Stane cast him. He stood right next to Tony, as always looming right over him.

“I’m sorry,” he told them, “Just wanted to make sure I look nice… it’s my first ball, after all.”

Finally, he raised his eyes to Tony, and if he had any doubts about whether or not he looked good enough, the way he stared at Steve dismissed them immediately. In all the time it took him to reach the bottom of the staircase, Tony’s eyes never left his face. He was staring at him with the strangest expression. If Steve didn’t know better, he might have called it awe.

“Don’t worry, you look great,” Rhodey complimented him. He turned and prodded Tony’s arm. “Say something, man.”

With a small jump, Tony came out of his reverie. “You look stunning,” he said, his voice a little throaty.

“You as well,” Steve replied truthfully. Tony was wearing a black tux with a waistcoat that was of the same blue color as Steve’s tux. He looked perfectly comfortable and devilishly handsome.

“I trust you have been studying the proper ball etiquette these past few days?” Stane asked. “We can’t be embarrassed in front of everyone.”

“Obi…” Tony said on a sigh. But once he looked at Stane’s stern expression, a shadow fell over his eyes and he remained otherwise silent.

Steve wanted to scream, but instead, he just nodded. “Don’t worry about me,” he told Stane with a stern glance of his own. “I’m more observant than you think I am.”

 

* * *

 

Steve officially hated balls.

It barely took him half an hour to decide on that.

He currently stood at the bar, watching the people mingle in the ballroom. Tony had to greet each of the guests, schmoozing his way around the room, and if Steve had ever doubted that Tony belonged in this world of glitz and glamour, he stood corrected now. Along the way, Tony introduced Steve to so many people he did not even bother trying to remember all their names. It didn’t matter anyway.

Most just wanted to talk to Tony about his project, pointedly ignoring Steve. Some, however, only wanted to talk about Stark Industries’ weapon’s production—and Steve noticed that each time this happened, Tony’s hands tightened to fists at his side.

Sooner rather than later, they had to split up, and after a while, Tony was nowhere to be seen, vanishing within the large crowd. And that’s where Steve was left off—alone with all these strangers.

Since he was officially introduced as Tony’s new business partner, a torrent of men and women wanted to talk to him about Stark Industries. Unfortunately for Steve, he had no way of refusing their conversations and therefore, he had little choice but to spend much of the evening with horrible people with horrible questions that made Justin Hammer seem like a really swell guy.

Steve stumbled through these questions as best he could. However, from the sidelong glances those people kept shooting one another, he knew he hadn’t done well. After the interrogation was finished, they turned their backs on him and began to have a whispered conversation amongst themselves. Steve did not have to hear their words to understand what they were saying: What on earth was someone like Tony Stark doing, taking a boy as common as him into his home?

By that time, Steve wanted nothing more than leave this horrible ball. Or at least slip away to some quiet room for just a few minutes.

As he walked towards the balcony, though, a firm arm suddenly slid around his waist, and Steve smiled as he realized that the night might just be salvaged, after all.

“I wish I could dance with you,” Tony murmured close to his neck.

Steve’s smile widened and was rewarded with a squeeze of Tony’s hand on his shoulder. With a soft push, Tony directed him towards the balcony, then closed the doors behind them.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Tony asked as soon as they had a bit of privacy.

“Well, I’m with you now, aren’t I?” Steve said.

“Flatterer,” Tony said. “But what I meant was these past two hours. Have you been enjoying the ball? I heard on fairly good account that you had no lack of willing conversation partners…”

He detected a hint of jealousy in his tone, and Steve smiled. “Willing, maybe,” he conceded. “But most of these people are about as interesting as watching paint dry.”

That roused a startled laugh from Tony’s lips. “Forgive me,” he whispered. And Steve was dazed by the warm caress of his breath against his skin, by the slight trembling of his bottom lip so close to his own.

“Forgive you… for what?” he asked.

“For not being at your side. I’d really looked forward to enjoying the evening with you.”

“Did you?”

“It was the _only_ thing I looked forward to,” Tony emphasized hoarsely, and Steve shivered at the intensity in his tone.

“What about you?” Steve asked. “I haven’t seen you all evening. You haven’t been courting the ladies in some dark recess, have you?” He said it lightly enough, but there was a trace of jealousy in his tone as well.

Tony grinned. “No. Apart from charming the scientists I invited, I’ve been trying to talk to as many of my investors as possible.”

“Why?”

“I want to stop it,” Tony said, looking more serious.

Steve raised a brow. “Stop what?”

“Making weapons. That’s what the business meeting a week ago was all about. I wanted to promote the arc reactor, but apart from that… I wanted to see if I could get away with it. Canning the weapon production without losing all of my investors.”

Steve swallowed, letting that sink in. “And?”

“So far it looks good,” Tony said with a slight shrug that didn’t look too convinced. “People seem to realize I actually have something to offer in return.”

“That’s great, Tony. I’m so proud of you.”

A smile appeared on Tony’s face. “It was you, you know? Who made me want to try again. I’d almost given up on the reactor. I thought it was a naïve dream… but then there was you and I just… you made me want to do better.”

The words brought warmth to Steve’s heart that was unlike anything he’d felt in a long time. It might not be love what Tony felt, but it was genuine and beyond simple gratitude.

Maybe that could be enough.

“You can do it,” Steve assured him softly. “I’m sure of it.”

Tony nodded, though his expression turned a little pensive. “Obi’s not happy about it. He thinks the whole thing is a hoax,” he said. “I hope he’ll come around. Otherwise…” He sighed.

“Otherwise what?” Steve inquired.

Tony heaved a great breath, walking to the balcony’s balustrade. He leaned onto it, staring down towards the ground.

“His opinion isn’t worth more than your own,” Steve prompted gently. When Tony didn’t answer to that either, Steve cautiously stepped up next to him.

It was now or never.

“Tony…” he started, hesitating as he searched for the right words. “About Stane. I—I think there’s something wrong with him.”

Tony huffed, looking at him strangely. _“Wrong?”_

Steve nodded. “You can’t trust him. A few days ago, I listened to him talking to some visitor about you, and about me. I didn’t understand what it was about exactly, but it sounded like a threat to you.”

“Obi’s angry about my decision,” Tony explained with an amused little smile. “But he has every right to be. I sprang this on him very sudden. He just needs time to come around.”

“He sounded like he wanted to kill you!”

Damn. He hadn’t meant to say it like that. So bluntly. He’d wanted to slowly make Tony understand about his fears and not just throw them at him at once.

With a firm grip on Steve’s arm, Tony suddenly led him around a corner and into the darkness of the balcony. “Don’t ever say something like that again,” he hissed. “Ever. You hear me? I owe Obi _everything_. I…”

“I know he was the one who introduced Indries to you,” Steve amended, “but that doesn’t mean he always has your best interest at heart!”

Once again, Tony’s whole face turned pale, spooked, and within a beat—incredibly cold.

“It’s not about Indries…” Tony whispered so quiet Steve had trouble hearing him. It was the first time Tony had said her name, and even though it was barely audible, from Tony’s lips, it gained a whole new meaning.

“Maybe it’s not,” Steve amended. “But Obadiah is controlling you. Don’t you see that? He exploited your weakness after her death, trying to lead the company as his own. And now that you want to take back control, he’s looking for ways to stop you.”

That roused a short, humorless laugh from Tony. “Goddammit. Obi told me you’d say something like this. He warned me. Steve… I assure you, you’re being paranoid.”

“And you’re being blindsided!” Steve shot back. It was the first time since knowing Tony that he’d raised his voice against him and all of a sudden, Tony looked at him as though Steve was a stranger—anyone but the man whom he slept beside at night. The lovely brown of eyes turned a stormy gray.

“Steve,” he said very slowly, his voice hard, “we’ll stop talking about this right now. _You’ll_ stop thinking about this right now.”

Every breath Steve took made his chest ache. “Tony, I—”

“No!” Tony yelled. “I don’t care what you think you _might_ have heard! It’s madness! I trust Obi. He’s… he’s stood up for me. I can’t—I can’t _not_ trust him.”

“But you _can_ distrust me?” Steve asked.

That brought a pained grimace to Tony’s face. He rubbed a hand over his face, looking for all the world like he was being torn in two. “I think it’s best if you leave the ball now,” he whispered, his eyes shining. “We’ll talk about this another time.”

“Tony…”

“I don’t know what… just _go_ ,” Tony rasped, turning around as his voice broke. “Don’t just stand there! Get out—Get out, please—”

Steve’s eyes widened and he took one step back, then another. He walked past the many horrible people he’d talked to in the last hours, and after that, his stiff legs were bringing him upstairs to his room much too slowly. His head throbbed and then everything around him dissolved. He was halfway down the corridor before he heard it.

The shouting.

Slowly, almost against his own will, his feet carried him back, and once he stood on top of the stairs, he couldn’t help but glance down.

Tony was just entering the entrance hall, with Rhodey and Pepper following him. Their expressions were tense, and their voices easily carried over the music in the other room.

A part of Steve knew he should go—that whatever they said wasn’t meant for his ears. There were secrets he simply wasn’t allowed to unravel.

And yet, he couldn’t move. Because while he _knew_ Tony didn’t want him to know certain things, Steve also knew he had to hear this eventually.

“It doesn’t matter what he thinks he heard,” Pepper hissed, stepping towards Tony. “It doesn’t even matter if he’s right or wrong. What matters is _him_ , Tony. Do you even know what this is doing to him?”

Tony sighed, shaking his head in defeat. “I didn’t mean to, I just… I lost control.”

“Exactly,” Pepper agreed. “And if you go on like this, you’ll also lose _him_.”

There was a heavy pause. Then, Tony said, “I know. I’m not stupid.”

When he didn’t go on, Rhodey stepped closer to him. “And you’ll just accept that?” he asked. “That boy _loves_ you. He loves you, despite all your baggage, Tones. All he wants is for you to lo—”

“I know!” Tony said harshly.

“Then you have to stop doing this to him!” Pepper yelled, throwing both hands up in despair. “Steve will never be like Indries! Can’t you accept that? All he wants is to be with you! How can this be so hard?”

Tony brushed a hand over his face. “Because he doesn’t know me! Not the _real_ me. If he knew…” His voice cracked.

There was another lengthy pause, and Steve watched with shaking, trembling breaths how the three of them stood there, just staring at each other.

“Tony,” Pepper prompted softly and she followed him when Tony sat down on the lowest part of the stairway. He hung his head, burying his face in his hands, and Steve just couldn’t watch it any longer.

Slowly, Steve walked back to his room—their room—Pepper’s word echoing in his mind. _Steve will never be like Indries!_

Maybe he just needed to accept it. That Tony had never been meant to be Steve’s. He’d always been Indries’—and always would be. There was something about losing your one great love that just left you hollow, and it had never been in Steve’s power to heal Tony’s wounds.

Tony had never even wanted him to.

Steve walked a few more steps before he realized he’d walked towards the west wing the whole time. Right into Indries’ room.

And he was only mildly surprised who he found waiting for him there.

“Did you get what you wanted?” Steve asked Stane, who stood before him, rigid and proud and obviously very pleased with himself. “I know that you don’t like me,” Steve went on, his voice quiet and sure. “I know that you want to get rid of me. But whatever you’re doing with _Tony_ —you’re hurting him. And I don’t… I don’t get it. How _can_ you? He’s like your son! How can you do that to him?”

“How _can_ I?” Stane asked as the sharp wind blew past the window’s shutters. “He’s an idealistic fool. He always has been.” He huffed, and his usually emotionless eyes filled with the blackest hate Steve had ever seen. “And _you._ You come here, encouraging him to pursue his naïve dreams of a better world. Trying to destroy everything I’ve built these last few years.”

Steve’s eyes widened. He didn’t even know what he had expected. But he surely hadn’t thought Stane would just tell him everything like that. And he didn’t know what to answer at all. He was only aware of a burning ache in his chest and heat flaming his cheeks with anger.

“Tell me,” Stane said as he twirled his cane again, the small orb on its top shining in the moonlight, “did you really think you could be happy here? You had to know that he could never love you as he loved her. You had to know he only wanted someone to distract him from his grief. Did you really think someone like you could be enough?”

Air fought to fill Steve’s lungs and every word that came to mind choked in his throat. He couldn’t think straight, not with Stane’s black eyes boring into his.

“He listens to me, you know,” Stane continued. “He will always listen to me. All I have to do is show him that you’ll never be what he needs. He’ll drop you, I just have to say the word.”

“I don’t believe you,” Steve whispered.

Stane stepped forward, his eyes full with hate as a firm hand suddenly closed around Steve’s wrist. The next thing Steve knew, Stane pushed him towards the window. The _open_ window. The cold wind brushed along Steve’s sweaty face, making him gasp.

“He wouldn’t even miss you,” Stane said, his hands now clamped tightly around Steve’s upper arms. “No one would. Why don’t you go? Why don’t you leave Stark Mansion? He doesn’t need you. He’s got his memories. He doesn’t love you. He wants to be alone with his wife again.”

Steve’s head spun. The ground was so far away. “She’s gone,” he said, then, more fiercely: “Let me go. _Stane_ … you have to let me go!”

“You’ve got nothing to stay for,” Stane went on, his lips almost pressing against Steve’s ear. “You’ve got nothing to _live_ for, have you? Look down there. It’s easy, isn’t it? Why don’t you just jump?”

The suggestion, though anticipated, still shocked Steve. So much that, at first, he couldn’t react at all.

“Go on…” Stane murmured. “Don’t be afraid to let go.”

“No,” Steve said, almost without his doing, but once the word had been given voice, it startled him out of his stupor. “No!”

He tried to wind his way out of Stane’s grasp, but the man’s grip was fierce and unyielding. “I won’t leave him,” Steve spat, now pushing back against Stane with his whole body to get away from the window.

“No… I suppose you won’t,” Stane mused. In the corner of his eyes, Steve saw him reaching for something. His cane. He saw him twirling the orb again, pulling at it until something silver and sharp came into view.

Steve gasped and shoved his whole body against Stane. Miraculously, it _worked_ —Stane stumbled backwards, and Steve first jabbed his elbow into the man’s guts then slammed his knee against his middle with all the strength he possessed.

Stane groaned in pain, falling to his knees even as he swung the blade— _a blade!_ —at Steve, barely missing by an inch.

Suddenly, thunder cracked through the air. Only it wasn’t thunder, it was something else. Both Steve’s and Stane’s eyes were drawn to the window. Thunder lit the sky, and from below, a few men started shouting.

“Shipwreck! Ship on the rocks!”

A ship?

Steve paused with a last glance towards Stane’s cowered form. Then, he ran as fast as he could.


	8. Chapter 8

“Shipwreck!” someone called. “Notify the Coast Guard!”

Steve ran across the path leading towards the bay. The sky was still illuminated by thunder, and the ocean looked almost angry as it whipped against the cliffs. And no matter how fast Steve ran, the bay seemed a thousand miles away.

The scene with Obadiah Stane was still on replay in his mind. The cane—of course he’d have a dagger inside that cane, it only seemed fitting for a cruel man like Stane. Had he really wanted to murder Steve, or had he only tried to scare him off?

Whatever it was—there was one thing Stane hadn’t taken into consideration.

Steve had always been too stubborn for his own good. And as long as Tony didn’t tell him to leave—he wouldn’t.

Because he would _protect_ Tony. This wasn’t just about gaining Tony’s affection anymore. No. Steve wouldn’t allow Stane to manipulate him any further. Not if Steve could do something to stop it.

At the bay, there were people everywhere, materializing from seemingly out of nowhere. Only Tony—Tony was nowhere to be seen.

There was chaos all around him. The large ship Steve had seen from the window was listed heavily by now, and he could see many bystanders, medics and even a few police officers walking around.

Wait. _Police?_

“Mister Rogers?”

Steve blinked and turned around. There were two people walking towards him: a woman with shoulder-long red hair and a roguish blond man. The woman cast him a crooked smile as she came to a halt in front of him. “Mister Rogers, I’m Agent Romanoff and this is Agent Barton,” she said. “We’re working for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. Miss Hogan told us to inform you about the situation should you come here. I’m sorry, but we can’t allow you to proceed further than this.”

“Inform me?” Steve asked inelegantly, then looked around once more. “I… Uh, have you seen Mister Stark?”

She nodded. “Yes, we just spoke to him. He and Miss Hogan returned to the house.”

Steve took a long, steadying breath and stared at the ship. “What happened?”

“With all due respect, this is something we can only discuss with Mister Stark himself.”

“Please,” Steve said. “I’m his… I’m his partner. Business partner. I have to…” … _do something,_ he thought desperately.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

Once more, Steve’s eyes darted to the sea, noticing a few police boats next to the big ship. He frowned. “Are you searching for something?”

Agent Romanoff sighed. “No.” She glanced at her partner, then back at Steve. “Not anymore.”

Which meant they had already found whatever they’d been looking for. “Just tell me,” he begged them. “I just want to know what we’re dealing with. Tony’s gonna tell me anyway.”

It was a wild lie. There was no way to tell if Tony was going to tell him anything—especially after their argument at the ball—, but the police officers didn’t have to know that.

Agent Romanoff considered him, and whatever she found in his expression seemed to convince her. “It was a boat,” she said. “We sent a diver down to inspect the bottom of the ship. See if we could keep it afloat. He came across the hull of another boat… a little sailboat.”

A sailboat? It took a moment before the words really started to make sense. And when they did, Steve suddenly felt sick to the bones.

The roar of the sea filled Steve’s ears and a cold shiver raced through his body, as if the waves suddenly started to whisper a certain name.

 _Indries_.

“Steve?”

He whirled around, relieved when he saw Rhodey and Jarvis approaching.

“Jim,” Steve breathed, barely aware he was speaking at all. “Have you seen Tony?”

“He wanted to be alone for a while,” Rhodey said. “Asked me to go looking for you, though.”

“They… they found a boat,” Steve told him, feeling nauseous. “A sailing boat. I think it’s… it’s…”

Rhodey sighed. “Indries’. Yes, we know.”

A beat. So it really was true. They had found Indries’ lost boat at long last. Steve swallowed hard. “Are you sure?”

“We are. Unfortunately,” the blond man—Agent Barton—explained. “It has her initials. And the police has been searching Mrs. Stark’s boat for a long while.”

“Do you have to tell Mister Stark today?” Jarvis asked. “It’s going to bring it all back again, and worse than before.”

“I’m afraid he already knows,” Agent Romanoff said and the sympathy on the woman’s face was almost unbearable.

She cast Rhodey a regretful glance. “And I’m afraid it’s not only a matter of the boat.” There was a significant pause. “We have to follow every lead from here on.”

Steve shook his head, unwinding. “I don’t understand.”

Agent Barton studied him for a long moment, his mouth forming a tight line. “We have reason to believe that Mrs. Stark wasn’t alone in the boat when it sank.”

“What?” Rhodey asked. “But no one was sailing with her that night!”

“That is exactly what we’ve been told, yes.”

“I don’t understand—”

“Mister Rhodes… there’s a body.”

The air fell still for several more seconds. Steve just stared at the two agents for a full minute, his pulse racing.

Then it hit. A wave of realization so potent, it made Steve gasp aloud.

_No. No, it can’t be._

Next to him, Rhodey slowly gathered himself. “A body?”

Agent Romanoff nodded. “Yes. In the main compartment of Mrs. Stark’s boat.”

“Someone was sailing with her?” Steve heard himself say.

“It seems so,” Agent Romanoff said softly. “That’s why we’ll have to bring Mister Stark to our headquarters. Go through the night’s events one more time. Maybe it’ll help to identify the body.”

“Can’t this wait until tomorrow?” Jarvis asked the agents again. “I would ask you to let Mister Stark process the news first. She was his wife, after all.”

The agents looked at each other, then nodded. “Alright,” Agent Barton said. “Obviously, we don’t want to trouble him more than is necessary. We all want this to be over with as soon as possible.”

“Thank you,” Steve said and watched as the two slowly walked away. There was something about them, he thought absently. He’d met a few police officers back home, whenever he’d gotten in a fight, and those two, they seemed… different.

What kind of institution had the woman said they were working for? Something about _Homeland Intervention_? Steve was sure he’d never heard of that before, and yet, the regular police officers he’d seen walking around had seemed to readily follow their orders.

God, he couldn’t believe it. The boat had been in the ocean for months, far over a year. And it resurfaced today.

Next to him, Rhodey shook his head in visible pain. “Why couldn’t they have left it there in peace, at the bottom of the sea?”

Jarvis’ shoulders sagged. “Well, I’d better get along and arrange some more food. It’s going to be a long night.”

“All right, Edwin,” Rhodey said. “Thanks.”

Steve wrapped his arms around his upper body, knowing perfectly well that this was something that could not only destroy his own life, but Tony’s as well.

The waves were still crashing against the shore. And somewhere, Indries’ boat was being lifted to the surface and there was a body inside it.

“I’ll go and look for Tony,” Steve told Rhodey, not waiting for a reply.

For once, he knew exactly where to find him.

 

* * *

 

Slowly, Steve opened the door and walked inside the room that had been his favorite place in all these last months. The workshop itself was empty, but that didn’t surprise him much. On his way to the adjoining room, he petted Dummy’s claw, smiling at the short whirring sound, then moved further.

He stopped in the doorway of the boathouse and the scene in front of him all but broke his heart. Tony looked hollow from where he sat on the floor next to one of the sailboats. As if he was slipping away from this world completely. It took a few agonizingly long seconds before he raised his gaze to Steve.

How long they remained like that, looking at each other without saying anything, Steve didn’t know. Only that it seemed hours before he finally found it in himself to walk further into the room.

When he stood a few feet away from Tony, his gaze shifted from his face down to his hands. There were a few bruises on his knuckles that had Steve suck in a sharp breath.

“What did you do?” His voice was low and Tony shrugged his shoulders in an attempt at nonchalance.

“Got into a fight with a wall.”

“It looks like you lost,” Steve answered dryly.

Tony cracked a smile. “You haven’t seen the wall.”

It was a stupid joke, they both knew it, and Steve didn’t laugh—didn’t even smile. Tony was looking at him with the strangest expression on his face. His eyes were no longer blank, but filled—very briefly—with an emotion so strong it almost hurt Steve to look at him.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Tony said. His tone wasn’t loud, nor was it accusatory; but it surprised Steve nonetheless. Did he really think that? How could he not have expected him to come after what had happened tonight?

“I’m sorry,” he heard himself say. “I shouldn’t have said what I said. About Obadiah. Not without knowing what I heard. It wasn’t the right time.”

Tony frowned, as if he had completely forgotten about their argument on the balcony. Then, when the memory seemed to come back to him, he shook his head. “Oh, Steve… You did nothing wrong,” he murmured. “I just… I lost my head. It wasn’t your fault. It’s me who should be apologizing.”

“You don’t have to,” Steve said. “But Stane… Tony, he’s—”

“Dangerous. I know.” A long sigh tore across Tony’s shoulders. “I _know_. You were right about him. I just… I didn’t want to see it. Last week, on my business trip, I met a journalist. Annoying woman… but she… she had a few things to tell me about Obi and the people he sold weapons to, and… I ignored it. I didn’t want another thing to deal with. But you were right. I should have seen something like this coming. That he wouldn’t let go just like this…” Tony paused long enough to rub a hand over his mouth. “It doesn’t matter now,” he continued, turning his gaze to the window. “It’s over.”

“What’s over?” Steve asked. “Because Indries was sailing with someone?” he asked and suddenly, he realized what this could mean. Why would Indries sail with someone no one had known about? They clearly all had thought she’d been alone on that boat—Had… had Indries cheated on Tony?

The thought seemed unthinkable.

The two had loved each other too much for that.

Tony only shook his head. “No… That’s not it.”

“Then… what?”

There was a long pause. Agonizing minutes of complete quiet. Tony’s eyes were now seemingly fixed on nothing, and when he started talking, Steve knew his thoughts were very far away. “You know, for a moment… I thought we could make it,” he whispered. “You and I. I thought it would work out. And I even thought… coming back here wouldn’t change anything. That this place held no power over me anymore. I was a fool. And now it’s too late. I destroyed what little chance of happiness we had.”

Slowly, Steve walked closer, kneeling down in front of Tony. He took both his hands in his own. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “I don’t understand.”

“Indries,” Tony said. “She has won.”

_“Won?”_

Tony nodded. “Her shadow has been between us all the time. Since the moment we arrived here. And even now… even in death she’s one step ahead of me.”

Steve’s mind was in a haze. Nothing Tony said made any sense.

“It was worth it, anyway,” Tony continued, his voice very soft as he met Steve’s gaze again. “I never thought I’d find someone like you. I was ready to end it there, in Monte Carlo. But then there was _you_ , coming for me. _Screaming_ at me.” A small smile appeared on his lips at the memory. “After that, I couldn’t get you out of my head. You were all I thought about in the days to follow. And when I got to know you… _God_ , Steve, I never thought I could fall for someone so deeply.”

Steve had trouble holding onto the strings that kept his heart together.

“You… fell… for me?”

Tony blinked himself out of his stupor, his eyes widening ever so briefly. A mixture of regret and self-hatred flashed across his face. “Of course I did,” he breathed. “You knew that, didn’t you?”

A heartbreaking pause.

“No,” Steve answered. “I… didn’t.”

Tony stared at him for another long moment, then he glanced away, his jaw tightening. “You thought I loved her,” he said, his voice very small.

“Of course you love her,” Steve insisted. “And I made my peace with that. That you’d never love me in the way you loved her. It doesn’t _matter_. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy.”

There was a shadow on Tony’s face, a shadow of the most potent sorrow Steve had ever seen. He drew back his hands, tightening them to fists at his sight. “Steve…” he started, voice trembling in a matter that Steve never heard from him before. “I _never_ loved her. Not then, not now.” He looked back at him. “My heart’s always been yours. Since the day we first met.”

It was like a punch to the chest. Steve stared at Tony, unmoving. The meaning of those words was completely impossible. He didn’t know what to say—if there _was_ anything to say. His mind was racing with both hope and fear. Any second now, Tony would take back those words, Steve was sure of it.

It was… it _couldn’t_ be. Could it?

Steve shook his head heavily. “But… I thought… Everyone told me how much you loved her. And every time someone mentioned her, you had that look in your eyes. You…”

“ _Never_ ,” Tony said, and then, there were hands on Steve’s waist, drawing him nearer until their foreheads almost touched. “Never. Indries was my ruin. I _hated_ her.”

Hated? Hated _Indries?_

“I don’t understand,” Steve said, because it was the truth. He couldn’t grasp all this. “But you wanted her back, you _mourned_ her, and—”

“No,” Tony interrupted him fiercely. “I never loved her. I never thought I was capable of hating another person like that. And I wasn’t. Not until I met her.” He paused. “You really didn’t know I love you?”

 _Love_. It was a simple word, unmistakable in its meaning, and yet… it echoed through Steve’s brain repeatedly until he could finally grasp it.

Tony loved him… he… he truly loved him.

“Steve,” Tony prompted very gentle. He leaned in, then slowly, hesitantly, kissed him. “I love you,” he breathed against his lips.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear that.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony said. “I should’ve… I should’ve told you. I just… There are things about me you don’t know. And it wouldn’t have been fair to you. I was selfish when I brought you here, but… I don’t deserve you.”

Steve shook his head. “Don’t say that. You’re a good man,” he said, his fingers dancing across Tony’s cheek.

Tony shook his head. “The kind of man I am today… There’s a darkness in me, and it will never go away again.”

“Tell me what happened,” Steve urged. “All of it. No secrets anymore.”

Tony bit his lower lip, looking as troubled as was humanly possible. His gaze dropped to their joined hands. “You’ll hate me.”

“No. I promise you, I won’t.”

“You think that _now_ … but what I’ve done—it’s unforgivable.”

“I love you,” Steve said, trying to make Tony understand. “Whatever happened—it won’t change that. I’m right here.”

Tony didn’t look convinced, but from the look on his face, it was clear that he knew that from now on, forward was the only way the two of them could go.

Still. It didn’t prepare Steve for the next words that left Tony’s lips.

“I killed her.”

There was a long beat, and Tony didn’t meet his gaze anymore. “I killed my wife,” he repeated, his voice barely audible. “I’m a monster who murdered my own wife. And now you know. Now _everyone_ will know.”

Steve’s body had frozen completely, and he could only listen as Tony went on.

“The body they found today… There was no one sailing with Indries. It’s her body. It was hers all along, lying in that boat beneath the mansion. The woman I identified back then, it wasn’t her. I knew it wasn’t, but I told the police it was. I killed her. I killed Indries, and she was in that boat ever since.”

At that Tony looked back up, a storm within his brown eyes. His hands were still on Steve’s waist. “Tell me. Can you look into my eyes and say that you love me still?”

The words hit Steve like a tidal wave. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t open his mouth to do as Tony asked and that was it—that was enough. Tony’s hands dropped from Steve’s body and a self-deprecating smile took hold of his lips. “It’s alright. You’re a good man. I would never ask you to love a murderer.”

Steve’s mind was stuck on replay. _I never loved her. Indries was my ruin. I hated her._

“What happened?” Steve heard himself ask.

Tony looked up, frowning as if he hadn’t understood him properly. “What do you mean?”

“What happened—why did you… why did you do it? Why marry her if you hated her so much?”

Tony opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“I deserve to know,” Steve said. “You can’t just spring this on me without explaining.”

Tony swallowed, shaking his head ever so slightly. He sighed. “When I met Indries…” he started. “I was… enchanted by her, as everyone was. She was intelligent, charming and fierce. My father, who never approved of anyone, approved of her, partly because she was Obi’s assistant and partly because she had put an end to my bachelor days. It took three weeks before he suggested we wed. I wasn’t sure I loved her, but everyone suggested I did, and it seemed a reasonable thing to do at the time so… we were married.” He sighed again and cast his gaze downward. “I was told I was the luckiest man in the world. And I believed them, at first. But I never had a moment’s happiness with her. She was incapable of love… or tenderness or decency. It didn’t take long before I realized what kind of person Indries was. She certainly didn’t try to hide it. With me at her side she had all the money and power she needed to have everything she ever wanted. That’s _all_ she had wanted. And she took whatever and whoever she liked.”

“ _Whoever_?” Steve asked before he could stop himself. “So she…”

“…cheated on me?” Tony finished, unbothered. “Sure. All the time. Her lovers wrote her letters she sometimes read to me out loud. And they visited her regularly. She even wanted me to catch her, invited them to our bedroom. Later on, she preferred to take them to the boathouse. The only place she wouldn’t bother me was the workshop.”

“But… why didn’t you just divorce her?”

“Of course I thought about that,” Tony said. “Even suggested it to her. Offered her money. She laughed right at me. Said she’d make it the scandal of the century. She’d tell the most horrid things about me, make up various perversions, tell I beat her, used her, raped her. She said she’d ruin not only me but my entire family. Pepper, Rhodey. Everyone. I couldn’t do that. So I made a deal with her. We’d handle our marriage as a business contract. Be the perfect couple in public. Stay out of each other’s space otherwise.” A pause. “At first, she played the game brilliantly. But after a while, she began to grow careless and in the months that followed… she drained me of everything. She couldn’t just do as she pleased, she wanted me to suffer. She threw one party after the other, fucking whoever made eyes at her. So I drowned my pain in booze and… I don’t really know what sent me over.” He brushed both hands through his hair as if he was ready to tear it out. “Do you really want to hear this?”

“Yes,” Steve said, sounding more certain than he felt.

Tony nodded, taking a deep breath. “I never thought I was capable of ending a life, I still… a part of me still doesn’t know how it happened. The day was… there was nothing special to it. It was… it was _nothing_. I sat in my workshop, seething, drinking… hating her. Thinking about the mess of a life I’d allowed her to create for me. I remember that I thought… I couldn’t possibly spend the rest of my life like that. So, after my third or fourth glass of scotch, I was so drunk that I went down to the boathouse to confront her. But I never dreamed I’d do what I did… you have to believe me…”

Steve nodded numbly. He stood up, staring out of the windows towards the ocean. “Does Rhodey know?” he asked. “And Pepper?”

Tony’s eyes were watery and on a sudden instinct, Steve reached out to take his hand. “I think so”, he whispered. “I haven’t told them, we never talked about it, but they know. Not all of it, I suppose, but… enough.”

Steve nodded again, more to himself than anything. “What happened then?”

Tony grimaced. “Steve…”

“Tell me,” Steve said. “I want to know.”

A sigh. Tony sat up a little straighter, as if bracing himself for a blow. “She sat in the dark when I got there,” he said. “I told her it was over. I didn’t care about our deal, but she wasn’t going to let go.” He sighed, and his whole body shook. “Instead, she got up, started to walk toward me. ‘When I have a child,’ she said, ‘neither you nor anyone else could ever prove it wasn’t yours.’ Then she started to laugh. ‘I’d be the perfect mother, just as I’ve been the perfect wife. And it ought to give you the thrill of your life, Tony,’ she said. ‘to watch my son grow bigger day by day… and to know that when you die, Stark Mansion will be his.’”

He leaned back a little, staring at the room as if the memory was truly coming alive. “She was face to face with me and she was smiling. ‘Well, Tony, what are you going to do about it?’ she asked. And I suppose I went mad for a moment. I must have struck her, I… I can’t really remember. All I could see was her. Laughing. Gloating. And I remember how I yelled at her, then shoved her. I wanted her to go away, so I pushed, and… When I looked down… ages afterwards, she was lying on the floor. She’d struck her head on a heavy piece of ship’s tackle. I remember wondering why she was still smiling… then I realized she was dead. I didn’t want to do it—but she fell and she hit her head, and I _killed_ her.”

The floor trembled with the weight of Tony’s confession. Steve had known where the story went, of course, but now, he couldn’t help but shiver. His eyes flickered over to where a few boats stood anchored to the floor with thick ropes, wondering which of them it had been.

“I called Obi,” Tony said. “He helped me. That’s why I owe him everything—my life. While I sat in the boathouse, crying my eyes out, he put her body in the boat. It was a horrible night. Sea raging… the earth screamed around me. Then Obi cleaned up the mess in the boathouse and… I haven’t been back until the day I brought you down there.”

Steve nodded numbly. Tony’s eyes were haunted, every inch of him tense as though he’d just killed Indries all over again.

“I thought I could escape her,” he told Steve. “I thought if I gave you a room far away from hers we’d have our peace. But I was wrong. Every time I fall asleep, she’s there with me. Telling me how you’ll hate me… how you could never…”

Steve once more settled on his knees before him, propping himself between Tony’s legs. “Tony,” he called softly, “I don’t hate you.”

“But—”

“It wasn’t cold blood,” he said, staring at him. “You’re not a murderer.”

“I am. I’d wanted her dead for so long—”

“It was an accident. You didn’t kill her.”

When Tony didn’t answer, Steve raised his hand to Tony’s face, realizing that he was silently crying. Gently, he wiped away the tears. “You’re not a monster,” he told him. “A monster doesn’t regret its crimes. You’re still a good man.”

Tony drew him in, hugging him to his chest. “I love you,” he whispered against Steve’s neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry that I—”

Before Tony could go on, Steve took his face between his hands and kissed him. And then, there was nothing but them. Steve’s mouth moved against Tony’s as he seized his forearms, gasping when his own back collided with some table.

The words echoed in Steve’s mind. Tony had never loved Indries. _Never_. Why hadn’t he realized that sooner? Why hadn’t Tony told him from the beginning?

As though sensing the thought, Tony’s mouth broke away just long enough for Steve to register the absence of his warmth. “It’s too late, isn’t it?” he asked. “Too late for us, too late for—”

Steve shook his head. “No.” He took one of Tony’s hands in his, placing it atop his thundering heart. “ _No_. I love you. We’ll find a way.”

“They’ll find out,” Tony said miserably. “They’ll find out it was me.”

Steve swallowed. “You don’t know that.”

“Her rings, bracelets she always wore... They’ll identify her body,” Tony explained. “Then they’ll remember the other woman, the woman buried in the crypt. And they’ll know I lied.”

Steve sighed, drawing Tony in and burying his own face in Tony’s neck. “I just found you,” he whispered. “I won’t let them take you away from me.”

A thundering storm was waiting for them, Steve knew that. But he couldn’t focus on that now. _Now_ , he needed to cherish this moment, and he needed Tony to believe they could still be happy together.

Because if Tony lost all hope, so would Steve.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm deeply sorry that it took me so long to post a new chapter to this. I plan to post the final chapter in the next couple of days, tho, so you won't have to wait as long again!  
> Anyway, thanks for your patience, whoever is still waiting for this :) Enjoy.

In the days that followed, Steve rarely left Tony’s side.

Just as Tony had predicted, it hadn’t taken long for the police to confirm the body in the boat was female, and not much longer for them to identify it was indeed that of Indries Stark.

The revelation led to a series of phone calls questioning Tony’s stability when he’d identified the woman currently lying in the Stark tomb, and soon enough, the whole city— _the whole country_ —was buzzing with excitement. People thrived on the scandal and newspapers rose debates as to what might have actually happened to the lovely Miss Indries.

A few newspapers already began to demonize Tony. He was a monster, they wrote, a monster that had never loved his wife—a man, who had been glad she’d died, so he could take new people to bed. Tony Stark was known to never turn down a chance to surround himself with the most beautiful and famous people, after all. No wonder he’d rushed out to identify a stranger’s body as his wife’s, too eager to forget, too desperate for fresh thighs to part for him.

The gossip made Steve sick to the bones, but Tony remained calm throughout every inquiry, be it by the police or some journalist. His eyes, however, always remained on Steve—determined, focused, but full of fear as well, as though he expected him to disappear any moment.

Which was ridiculous. There was no way he would let Tony go. Not now that he had his love. Not now that he felt the grip of Indries’ ghost slowly fade away. Not now that he felt so wondrously liberated.

In the last few days, he’d always awoken in Tony’s embrace. Every morning, he’d feel him against him, nude and soft with sleep. Today was no exception.

He had no idea what time it was, nor did he particularly care. Instead, he allowed himself to take in Tony’s relaxed expression. What would he give to just stay here, in their little sanctuary, and not face another day full of this hatred. Why couldn’t those people see what a wonderful man Tony was? Why couldn’t Tony?

Slowly, Steve brushed a finger along Tony’s cheekbone and he… wondered. He wondered about the same thing he’d wondered about for the last few days. Had Tony really done it? Had he really killed his wife as he’d told him?

A part of him still couldn’t believe it. But maybe his feelings clouded his judgment. That’s what love did, wasn’t it? To make one see only the good sides of a person… and not the darkest ones.

“What are you thinking of?” a sleep-kissed voice asked, startling Steve.

He looked up, back at Tony’s face, and forced a smile on his face when he saw Tony’s worried expression. “You,” he said truthfully.

Tony hummed. Then, he released a soft breath. “I’m so sorry. That you have to go through all this.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d apologized, and it likely wouldn’t be the last.

“I’m not,” Steve said. While every day the media-frenzy got worse, he didn’t regret any of his decisions. They had brought him here, after all.

“You should be,” Tony whispered. “You’re so young, Steve… You should be free to experience new things every day. See new cities, meet new people. Not be confined to a house and its long-lost ghosts.”

Steve rolled his eyes at the melodramatics. He turned around, pulling back the sheets so he could comfortably lie down on top of Tony. Quickly, he kissed his lips, then his cheek, then placed his head next to Tony’s, his lips close to his ear.

“Remember what I said in Monte? About bottling up memories?”

Tony wiggled a little, giving off a rather choked breath when their middles met. “Yes. What about it?”

“I’m still doing that,” Steve said. “Every moment here with you is one of those memories I’ll want to look back on when I’m old and frail. These might not be the best days of my life, but they’re still amazing, because you’re here, with me.” He smiled, kissing along the lines of his goatee. “Loving me.”

“So much,” Tony said instantly, turning his head a little sideways so he could kiss Steve properly.

Steve closed his eyes, breathing in Tony’s scent. “No matter how this ends, I will never regret saying yes to you.”

He felt Tony staring at him and opened his eyes again. There was a long silence between them, but he could see the raw emotions in Tony’s expression, a mixture of gratefulness and pure amazement.

“There will be a questioning in a few days,” Tony told him quietly. “This woman… Agent Romanoff… she called, saying whatever they found in the boat doesn’t one hundred percent add up with my testimony.”

Steve shivered. “They found something?”

“Well, I don’t know. Not on her, I suppose,” Tony said, and every time their conversation came to Indries, the same guilt—the guilt Steve had mistaken for grief for too long—flashed across his face. “The sea’s had her too long. There can’t possibly be any evidence of… of what happened.”

Steve nodded, his fingers tunneling through Tony’s hair. “It will be alright,” he whispered. “I’m sure it will.”

Tony’s grip on him tightened further. “I can’t believe you’re still here.”

Steve nosed against Tony’s cheek, pushing against him ever so slightly, urging Tony to turn his head again so Steve could taste his lips.

There was a beat, and then Tony smiled and kissed back as if his whole life depended on it.

Kissing Tony was… like tasting food after starving for a thousand years, quenching thirst after days of being parched. Every time he kissed Tony, it took him by surprise completely, as if his lips were connected to every nerve of his body.

“Steve,” Tony gasped into his mouth, wiggling once more, this time with intent.

He was hard against him, and Steve wanted him desperately.

In the past few days, Steve felt he had grown up. He wasn’t just much stronger now than he had been half a year ago, he also understood so much about himself now that he hadn’t understood before. About who he was and who he wanted to be. About the things he wanted. Because while he and Tony had made love before, he had never initiated anything. He had always waited for Tony to show him what he wanted, so certain anything else would be rejected.

But that wasn’t the case. Tony just wanted Steve, and he always had.

“There’s something,” Steve started. “Something I’ve wanted to do with you.”

Tony’s raised a brow curiously. “What is it?”

Steve kissed the corner of Tony’s mouth while one of his hands moved down from Tony’s chest to his navel to his hipbones. Then, he dug his fingers into the flesh of his ass.

A small shiver rippled across Tony’s skin and his breath hitched slightly, encouraging Steve to roll his hips against him, making them both groan.

“I’ve never…” Tony whispered, swallowing down the rest of the admission, but the meaning was very clear.

“Never?” Steve asked.

Now it was Tony’s turn to roll his eyes, and Steve had trouble believing his own when he saw him blushing ever so slightly.

“No, never,” he conceded. “I never… trusted someone enough, I think.”

“But you do trust me.”

Tony sighed. “Of course, but…”

“You’ll like it,” Steve promised him. “And I’ll be very careful. As you were with me.”

Tony bit his lower lip as he stared up at Steve. “You really have changed,” he observed, and after another long beat, he nodded.

Steve smiled, and Tony huffed at the probably very eager way he reached for the bottle of oil standing next to their bed.

“You _have_ wanted to do that,” Tony commented, eyeing the bottle critically as if it was gonna bite him.

“I really have,” Steve admitted unashamedly. He loved what Tony did to him— _loved_ it—but there was something very intriguing about the idea of Tony losing control at his hands, for once not at all the very put-together man he was otherwise.

Now though, he mostly looked very unsure about the whole situation, so Steve was very cautious when he reached for one of his legs, drawing it up just a little.

“Right,” Tony said, as if remembering what he ought to do for this to work. With a frown on his forehead, he raised the other leg as well, bracketing Steve’s hips.

Steve smiled—he couldn’t help it—and leaned down to kiss Tony once more, before slowly moving downwards, along Tony’s chest, nipping briefly at his bellybutton before his thumb slipped over Tony’s erection, teasing him with lazy circles.

He could feel from the trembles in Tony’s body that he was fighting the urge to thrust his hips against him, though for reasons Steve could not fathom. With his other hand, Steve put his cock in position and licked him once, from base to tip.

Just as he’d hoped, any thought of resistance seemed to promptly melt away. A hard gasp clawed through Tony’s throat, his back bowing. After that, every swipe of Steve’s tongue seemed to have him near jolting off the bed—which was exactly what Steve had wanted to achieve. For Tony to finally let go for once, let go of his million worries and regrets and fears, and just be with him—here, right in this moment.

Before Tony could change his opinion, Steve had already slipped an oiled finger into his body and rubbed his insides with gentle, steady movements. Tony was very tight around him, clearly not used to the intrusion. With soft words and calm instructions, however, Tony was able to calm down a little, unclench, and take what Steve had to offer. With tender swipes of his tongue, and a few pointed thrust of his fingers, he soon enough had Tony’s hips eagerly buck against him. And throughout it all, Steve held him to the earth, keeping him grounded.

_“_ _Christ,”_ Tony groaned, pressing his middle further into Steve’s movements.

“That’s it,” Steve murmured into Tony’s wet skin as he stretched him further. When he looked up, he saw the way Tony was inhaling sharply, his eyes darkened, and before he knew what was happening, Tony already pulled at his shoulders, drawing him upwards.

“I should go on a little longer,” Steve said, but Tony was having none of it. He pulled Steve in and they came together in a frenzy; mouths pressed together, arms entangled.

He felt a hand wander across his chest before slipping between them to tease the ache between his legs.

“Don’t,” Steve warned. “I’m so close already.”

Tony’s heated eyes met his. “I never even touched you.”

Steve smiled. “As I said… I really wanted this.”

“I _see_ that,” Tony said, a little smug now, moving upwards so the head of Steve’s erection nudged against his opening. “Go on then, before I can change my mind.”

Steve’s breath hitched but he did as he was told. Slowly but steadily, he slid into Tony, parting his body with his own.

Tony’s brown eyes all but absorbed him. There was a deep line between his brows, but it was more wonder than pain. It took a moment before Steve was fully seated within him, and afterwards, they remained locked in silence for a long beat, kissing ever so slightly. As though getting to know each other all over again.

“Okay?” Steve asked.

Tony swallowed. “Strange,” he replied, then added, breathily, “ _Move_.”

Slowly, Steve began to roll his hips—and it only took a beat for Tony to move with him, recapturing his length every time he slipped away.

“Keep… looking…” Steve begged him and smiled when Tony nodded, his eyes remaining open even as their lips touched again.

Soon enough, Steve’s thrusts were becoming harder, and Tony battled him in the best way possible, pushing forward every time Steve drew back—every time he teased him before slamming back home.

“When…” Tony gasped. “When did you get so damned strong?”

Steve smiled as he placed his hands on Tony’s legs, pulling them further up until they were practically thrown over his shoulders.

A choked-off moan escaped Tony’s lips at the new angle. “Oh _God_.”

_It was all you,_ Steve thought desperately. _You’ve taught me everything._

Steve’s eyes trailed down Tony’s body until focusing on his middle. His cock was flushed red and leaking. “You’re so beautiful,” he managed to say. Leaning down, he kissed Tony’s throat. His hands traveled from his chest to his arms, and further up until Tony’s fingers laced with his own.

“Tell me,” Tony panted as he tightly gripped Steve’s arms, “how it made you feel when I did that. Did it feel this good?”

“Yes,” Steve confirmed. “I didn’t know anything could feel so—”

“What?”

“—extraordinary.”

Tony’s eyes were full of love as he nodded. Those eyes told Steve that he was his, and that he was, in some way, overwhelmed by his own reaction… by the desperate fidgeting of his body he could not control.

Never had Steve seen him like this, and the sight had his skin buzzing. As he wrapped a hand around Tony’s erection, he felt empowered and terrified and reassured all in the same beat. He pumped him in time with his thrusts and as he began to pound into Tony in earnest, a deep conviction settled inside of him.

There was nothing more worth fighting for than this.

The second he felt Tony clench around him, coming against his hand, the white heat that’d kept him under roared to freedom and Steve felt himself spiraling toward release.

He tried keeping himself upright after, but it was proving difficult and entirely impossible once Tony pulled at his shoulders. He dropped down on Tony’s chest, breathing him in as he brushed his fingers across the sweaty skin.

“Thank you,” Steve murmured after a while.

He felt Tony frown against his forehead. “For what?”

“For loving me.”

Tony didn’t say anything in return. In that moment, he didn’t need to. Steve felt his love everywhere. All around them. And in his heart.

So Tony just hugged him to his body, holding onto him like he was his only anchor right now. And for now—for the rest of their lives—Steve was determined to be just that.

 

* * *

 

The day of the interrogation, Steve found Tony sitting in the workshop. He was already wearing one of his best suits, looking very well put-together for an occasion that might as well bury their last hope of making it out of this mess unharmed.

From where Steve stood, Tony didn’t seem to do much of anything, only staring at the large blueprint he’d taped to one of the walls.

“Tony,” Steve called him softly. “We should leave if we want to be in time.”

Tony looked up and turned, a small smile on his face. He reached out to him, and once Steve stood at his side, he took one of his hands, squeezing it lightly. “Look,” he said, nodding at the paper.

Steve leaned against Tony a little as he examined the schematic. “The reactor?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Tony said. “I think I just solved the last glitch.”

Steve’s mouth opened in surprise. “You mean it… works?”

A proud smile appeared on Tony’s lips. “It works.”

“Oh my God,” Steve breathed, looking back at Tony. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

Steve huffed at the bad joke, then once more stared at the blueprint. “Tony, that’s… that’s amazing.”

Tony hummed. “It is,” he agreed, then swallowed, defeat leaking back into his eyes. “Too late, I guess.”

“It’s not too late.”

“Maybe not,” Tony conceded, then sighed. “I… uh, I decided to give Banner full access to everything concerning the reactor. Data, prototypes, all of it.”

Steve frowned. “Tony…”

“I know, I know,” Tony said, and squeezed his hand again. “But it won’t do me any good in jail. If I’m lucky enough not to get a death sentence, that is.”

Steve opened his mouth to give him his piece of mind on saying things like this so off-handedly, but Tony beat him to it. “It’s a precautionary measure,” he said. “Of course I don’t want to go to jail. I… I really can’t emphasize enough how much I don’t want to go to jail. But sooner or later I have to accept the fact that it’s a possibility. And if it happens, I want Banner to keep on working on the reactor. I need _someone_ to build this. Banner’s a good man, and he’ll do good things with it. I know for sure because he has to get your approval for basically every step he takes.”

Steve blinked. “ _My_ approval? But I—”

“ _You_ are far more clever than you’re letting on,” Tony said, looking at him fondly. “You’re the most intelligent, empathetic, stubborn man I’ve ever known. One day, you’re going to change the world for the better, I’m sure of it.”

Steve paused, feeling his eyes tear up a little.

“I want you to watch over my work, make sure it’s in the right hands. You’ll have Pepper and Rhodey, but I want _you_ to make the decisions for Stark Industries in the future. Can you do that for me?”

Steve swallowed, nodding slightly. The sheer thought of Tony not being at his side made his insides ache with an unfathomable pain, but he knew he had to give him this promise. “I’ll do my best,” he whispered.

“That’s more than enough,” Tony said, leaning in to kiss him gently.

And that kiss, for some reason, felt a lot like saying goodbye.

 

* * *

 

Agent Romanoff was the first to enter the large interrogation room. She was followed by Agent Barton and a man Steve hadn’t met yet. A man who wore an honest-to-God _eye patch_ and who looked so intimidating that Steve would’ve loved to simply drag Tony out of here and never return.

When they’d arrived at the address Agent Romanoff had given them, they’d stood in front of an enormous building. Above the front entrance Steve could see the inscription: _Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division._

Turned out Steve’s presumption had been right—this was definitely not a normal police station.

The question remained the same: Why were these people allowed to investigate the case? Why did they bother? And what were they looking for? Whatever organization those three belonged to—it clearly operated under the radar. They had to be members of some kind of national security force, which led Steve to believe that there was something he was missing about the whole ordeal.

Something bigger than the death of Indries Stark.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman. Mister Stark,” the man with the eye patch said, then introduced himself as Nicholas Fury. No title, no job description, just a name, but once his gaze settled on Steve, he realized it didn’t matter. The guy was clearly the boss here, and whatever he’d decide on would seal their fate.

He held power over Tony, therefore power over Steve, and that alone made him even more intimidating.

A stilled hush fell over the room as Fury took his seat. “Thank you for coming by today. Let’s hope this won’t take much time. I’m sure you’re all eager to put this matter behind you.”

Tony inclined his head but didn’t say anything. Next to him, Pepper and Rhodey sat up a little straighter and even Jarvis, who’d been summoned to the hearing as well, tried to look as calm and serious as was possible, though Steve still noticed his legs were jittering below the table.

“We’re here to talk about the cause of death of Indries Stark. I wasn’t familiar with the events so far, but as I was informed by Agent Romanoff, the previous cause of death was thought to be drowning at sea.” Fury looked down at a stack of papers. He leaned back, then eyed them critically. “I know Mister Stark identified another woman as his wife, but I think we can all agree that traumatic events, such as losing a loved one, can mess with your judgment, right?”

“Right,” Steve said, biting his lower lip because the question clearly hadn’t been directed at him. When he looked up again, he saw Agent Romanoff trying to suppress a grin.

Fury cleared his throat. “Well, I know this might be difficult, but for the purpose of finding out what happened with Mrs. Stark, we’ll have to go over the previously recorded testimonies.”

“Sure,” Tony said, his mouth forming a tight line.

The hours that followed washed over Steve in waves. By now, he knew every detail there was to know about the night Indries had died. How Tony had pushed her too hard, how she’d fallen to the ground, hitting her head. How Stane had helped him get rid of the body.

And yet, hearing everyone relay their memories of that night… it was as if it truly came alive. A tightening manifested itself in Steve’s chest, his mind replaying a scene he’d tried so hard not to think about. He saw himself standing in the boathouse. Tony was with him, but his empty eyes were pointed downwards, a woman’s body lying at his feet, blood pooling around her head.

“Steve?”

He startled, looking into Pepper’s worried eyes.

“I was just… uh, sorry,” Steve said, looking back up, realizing it was Jarvis’ turn to comment on his previous testimony.

“The thing about Mrs. Stark was that… she was very venturous,” Jarvis told Fury with his usual calming voice. “She wanted to conquer the world, even all the aspects that others deemed unconquerable. She took great risks, often placed herself in harm’s way without so much as a blink of the eye. I think she was convinced that she was invincible.”

“So you’re suggesting that… she drowned by accident, because she underestimated the storm?” Fury asked, leaning forward with visible interest.

“I think it’s a possibility,” Jarvis confirmed.

“Alright,” Fury said. “But can you tell me one thing: Why were the seacocks open?”

“Excuse me?” Jarvis asked.

“The valves to drain out the boat,” Agent Romanoff explained. “That’s what flooded the boat and sunk her. It never capsized at all. There were neatly drilled holes in the boat’s bottom. And the lower cabin where we found Mrs. Stark—it was locked. Can you tell me why she’d do all that? Knowing the boat would sink?”

There was a very long, very heavy silence, and Steve watched as Tony’s mouth opened in disbelief. “The _door_ was locked?” he breathed.

“It was.”

Steve’s mind was spinning. Why would Obadiah have locked the door? He glanced at Tony, looking for some sign that he knew what all of this meant, but all he could see was confusion.

Jarvis cleared his throat. “Or maybe she wanted to drown.”

“Come again?” Fury asked.

“As I said, Mrs. Stark was a very unstable character. Rejoicing one day and distraught on the next. If she had her reasons… yes, I could see her killing herself.”

“Bullshit,” a deep voice growled.

Steve frowned and whirled around. He hadn’t noticed that the door to the interrogation room had been opened and when he spotted the source of the voice, his insides flushed cold.

Seeing Obadiah Stane outside the confines of Stark Mansion was startling, but his presence filled Steve with a dark foreshadowing all the same.

“What is he doing here?” he whispered to Rhodey, hands balling into fists.

“Tony thought he might show up,” Rhodey replied.

Fury’s brows had flickered upwards. “And who are you?”

“Obadiah Stane. I was a friend of Mrs. Stark.”

A very long silence settled over the room. A friend of Mrs. Stark. Not Tony’s, not the family’s friend. _Indries’_.

Fury’s expression remained impassive, though Steve saw Romanoff and Barton trade a meaningful glance in the background. “And you have new information about the case?”

Stane sneered at Tony briefly, reaching into the lapels of his coat jacket to retrieve a piece of paper. “Indeed, I have.”

It was a letter, Steve realized, and recognized the kind of flaming red paper immediately. He’d seen it in the secret drawer compartment in the Morning room. It was the same color as the hidden letters he’d found in Indries’ desk.

“It’s true that Indries pushed herself all the time,” Obadiah said, “but she wasn’t stupid about it. The storm would’ve stopped her.”

“Then perhaps it wasn’t about beating the storm,” Jarvis retorted. “As I said, she—”

“…killed herself? Really?”

“It’s possible.”

“ _Possible_ ,” Stane snorted, tearing open the letter. “Mister Fury, Indries wrote this to me the day she died. She’d come by my house but incidentally, I was away on a meeting, so I didn’t get it until the next day.”

Fury held out his hand to take the letter. His eyes scanned the lines in silence first, then he sighed and read out loud: _“Obadiah, I have something terribly important to tell you. I will be at the boathouse all evening and shall leave the door open for you.”_

“Now,” Stane said as he sat down on one of the empty chairs. He flashed a confident smirk at Jarvis. “Tell me, old man, does that sound like the note of a woman who had made up her mind to kill herself?”

Steve’s gaze whipped back to Jarvis, hoping against hope Jarvis had some kind of explanation for this. However, his face was blank with confusion. After a pregnant pause, he shook his head.

“Care to tell me why you didn’t mention this before?” Fury asked Stane.

“I was waiting for the right moment,” Stane replied with a smile.

To Steve’s relief, Fury looked intensely unimpressed. His eyes narrowed and he read the small note one more time, then folded it properly and turned to Tony. “Is there any reason to believe your wife wouldn’t have corresponded with Mister Stane?”

Tony thought for a moment, then sighed. “No. They’ve always been close. He hired her, after all. I’m sure the letter is genuine.”

“You hired her?” Agent Romanoff asked Stane, raising a brow as she leaned forward. “When was that?”

“I’m not sure how that is relevant.”

“Answer the lady,” Fury said, leaning forward as well.

Obadiah cast him a predatory look. “January, three years ago.”

Romanoff hummed, then glanced at Tony. “And when did you marry her?”

Tony frowned. “May.”

“Same year?”

The frown increased. “Yes, I… Sorry, I don’t see how that’s relevant either.”

“Oh, it’s not,” Romanoff said. “We were just marveling at the probability. That your friend would hire someone you’re going to marry only a few weeks later. I mean... what are the odds.”

Tony’s eyes flickered sideways, and Steve could see the gears in his head spinning. “What are the odds,” he eventually agreed.

“All right,” Fury said then, drawing a deep breath. “Mister Stane… obviously you have some thoughts as to what this letter means. Please enlighten us.”

“I think it certainly means she didn’t kill herself,” Stane sneered. “She wanted to speak with me about something _terribly important_. Why would she kill herself before that? And apart from that, Mister Fury, do you mean to tell me that if you wanted to commit suicide, you’d go to all the trouble of sailing out to sea in a boat, then take a hammer and chisel and laboriously knock holes through the bottom of it?”

Fury leaned back again. “Do you have a theory as to what the terribly important thing involved?”

“Yes.” Stane said, briefly looking at Tony. “Way I see it, she wanted to end her marriage to Tony. And I think that’s what she wanted to tell me the night she died. The night she… disappeared.”

Beneath the table, Steve’s hand seized Tony’s and squeezed hard.

“Anthony is an alcoholic. Has been for a while,” Stane continued. “He hasn’t been able to lead his own company for years. And he didn’t treat his wife as she deserved. I’m sure she wanted to tell me she wanted a divorce.”

Pepper huffed loudly enough to attract a few glances.

“Be careful, Mister Stane, that’s a wild speculation,” Fury observed.

Stane just smiled at him. “Oh, I think we both know it’s not so wild.”

“Are you accusing Mister Stark of murder?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Stane said. “That’s something capable men like you are going to find out, are you not?”

Fury’s jaw tightened. “Alright. I call for further investigations,” he said, looking back at each of them, then at Tony. “I’ll have to consult legal authorities, Mister Stark. Until then, we’ll bring you to our Headquarter.”

Without preamble, Steve felt something hard crash in his chest. “You’re taking him into custody?” he snapped at Fury. “ _Why?_ You said it yourself, this is just a wild speculation!”

“The letter puts the whole ordeal into a new light, Mister Rogers,” Fury said. “My hands are tied.”

As everyone in the room stood up, Steve balled both of his hands into fists. “But—”

“Don’t,” Agent Romanoff said, suddenly standing next to him. Her voice was so quiet that Steve was sure only he could hear her. “Let him go.”

He watched in horror as Agent Barton led Tony towards the exit of the room. Their gazes met once more, and it was almost like Steve could see his spirit break. As if the warmth he’d treasured so much in the last days faded into nothingness.

Steve whirled around to where Stane still stood. He was grinning from ear to ear as his former boss was taken into custody.

A deep urge to punch him rose deep inside Steve’s gut and if Agent Romanoff hadn’t pulled him out of the room, he’d definitely gone through with it.

Outside, he stood rooted to the floor, unable to move. For a few minutes, all he could hear was the sound of his own ragged breathing. His eyes were tightly screwed shut, his lips parted, his muscles clenched. He couldn’t move; he couldn’t even _think_. All he could do, in that brief span of forever, was stay still and hope that this was all just a bad dream.

Tony was gone. They’d really done it, they’d taken him away from Steve.

When he opened his eyes again, his gaze found Agent Romanoff’s green eyes.

“Ma’am, I…”

“Call me Natasha,” she said, smiling at him.

“Natasha… he’s—Tony’s not a bad man,” he told her heatedly. “I know how things look, but there’s more to it, I _know_ there is…”

“I assure you we don’t want Mister Stark any harm,” she said. “We just want to find out the truth.”

The _truth_.

The truth was that Tony had killed his wife, Steve thought miserably. The why’s and how’s wouldn’t matter to those people. Tony had killed her, and that was it. It wouldn’t matter to them that Indries had done everything in her power to push Tony into doing the unthinkable. And it wouldn’t matter that Stane only did what he did to get the company under his control, and use Tony’s inventions in any way he saw fit.

“Steve,” Natasha called, looking at him with a serious expression and bringing Steve back to the present. “If there’s more to it, if you have a lead, then… bring us _something_ we can work with. So far, Tony is our only suspect. If you want to help him, you need to help us. We’re not the bad guys.”

“Then _who_ are you?” Steve asked.

She cast him a crooked smile. “Help us and I’ll tell you. Help us get to the bottom of this. And I promise you everything will be alright.”

Steve gulped, balling his hands to fists. He had no reason to believe her—none at all. And yet, he had the feeling these people were his only hope.


End file.
